













0 M 0 


* 0 " ' " * s^<^ r%- * ^ N 0 

“ ' CV \j ^ ^ *f > 

/• 



* cP 

^J.'i’'' c “ “ ‘ <• ^'^'a ‘ * ‘ ' ' o'^'^ • ' ' ' « '^<P ^ ° ‘ ' ^ ‘t''^ » “ ‘ 

.'f^ ."^W. ^ . t' / y 

< V 



• aV ^ 

^ ^ d 


^ vV "v 

’•»/v*"'-'y.— p 



^iy ', , 





V I 


a\ f 0 n c . '/-• 

^ y 

\ ♦ * "S 

''^ ® X^ *^. '' 

' ' • ' *^''''‘ ’'^° ’*y » ' • » y y ^ 

^ jgsaOi^ib^ ^ 

: 


% ^ 


y y . 


^' ■ ^ 





< 

c o « "O. 


TV' a 

p ‘^ < 

^ K •« '. 


T ^ 'V 

® c,*^ ^ O 

■O ^ <<‘ o 

'■ - 4 ^ . ^0 ^ y 


- v"^' =;'^ 


, „. . . "o o' 

^ 0 °^. 

V . 0 . %, *•'■'” % '• O- , 

V ^ A r fC? 5i ^ 

%/ 


o X^ ‘ ^ 





ft ft 



,V.'' 

ft ^ 



^ J^f{fj 


*** M^ii/// 

& ifc- ci^sr 




)>°°^ 


ft 

•Z' 
y< 

' ^X, > ■) N 0 ^ ^ ^ ^ 

- -t, cy '^■ 



.V j>. 


.y* 'Co 



% *.,^* / .i., % 

C* V '» ^ ' ^ 

ft ^ S. .^A-JTbts^ ^ ^ 


lV 













1 











LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


By frank I. ODELL 


gowlis 


Illustrated. 1 2mo. Cloth. $1.25 each 
LARRY BURKE, FRESHMAN 
LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 



OPS;; .ri« 4; 

«ri' 


^L* • . I * , • • » 

• t • ■« . V • V . f *' '' 

5 P-' 

- ‘ . »>- ''ts ■ r ■ A- 


I7?:< 


-■A 





Now Larry was thinking of 


THE RECORD. — Page 336 . 




THE LARRY BURKE BOOKS 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


BY 

FRANK 1. ODELL 

Author of “ Larry Burke, Freshman ” 


ILLUSTRATED BY H. 0. EDWARDS 



BOSTON 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO. 


Published, August, 1911 



Copyright, 1911 

By Lothrop, Lee & Shepard Co. 


All Rights Reserved 

Larry Burke, Sophomore 




NORWOOD PRESS 


BERWICK & SMITH CO. 

NORWOOD, MASS. 

U. S. A. 



©CI,A2!)2171 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER I 

Enter, Six Feeshmen 

CHAPTER II 

The Annual Clash 

CHAPTER III 

The Class Scrap 

■ CHAPTER IV 

Bucking a Frame-Up 

CHAPTER V 

The Mock Trial 

CHAPTER VI 

Hazing as a Fine Art .... 

CHAPTER VII 

^‘Oiling the Machine” .... 

CHAPTER VIII 

Preparing for Hilton 

CHAPTER IX 


PAGE 

11 


. S4 


. 61 

. 67 

. 85 


. 103 


. 136 


. 158 


The Big Game . 


. 190 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER X 

“ The Real Leader ” 233 

CHAPTER XI 

The Soph Cotillion- 256 

CHAPTER XII 

The Last Hazing 270 

CHAPTER XIII 

The Chi Beta Eire 292 

CHAPTER XIV 

The Two-Mele Record 309 

CHAPTER XV 

Larry’s Disappointment 339 

CHAPTER XVI 

The Alumni Day Game 358 


ILLIJSTEATIONS 


Now Larry was thinking of the record 

(Page 336) Frontispiece^ 

FACING PAGE 

All who saw them pass knew it was merely an- 
other college prank 94 

Urged on every foot of the way by frantic 
cheers 218 ^ 


Miss Dale was beside him, enjoying the even- 
ing even more than he was himself . . . 270" 

Then they discussed what they would do to him 288 

He tottered erect and fell half-way through the 
window 304 


I 




• # 


\ 





% ¥ 


I 


t 


I 


I 


4 


* 


% 


( 

♦ 



i 



i 

» 

I 


I 



■ 


• ; 



* 


I 




V 




i 


4 


f 


I 

« 


« 




V 


* * 


4 


I • 


f 


% 


* 


t 


\ 










I 


« 

9 

» 



> 


• >< 


4 

r * 




« < 

V 


, * 


• ■ '* '.• ^ . - l ’' .' • '■ V' 

^ . ■ V 'v. *' y. '- ,V. ’ V.' ■ \ •• . 


• K'. 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


CHAPTEE I 

ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 

‘‘There they are!^’ 

And with a yell that dumfonnded a deaf old 
man standing near them, the group of upper- 
classmen belonging to the Pi Sigma Alpha 
fraternity and commonly called “Pi Sigs,’’ 
plunged through the crowd on the little sta- 
tion platform and took by storm the two grin- 
ning youths who had just stepped otf the 
sleepy old local. 

Amid a volley of handshaking and slaps on 
the back, the Pi Sigs began to elbow their way 
back through the crowd, careless of the feet of 
those in their way, as they kept time to their 
progress with this running fire of comment : 

“ Where ^d you get the tan, Larry 

“Give him feathers and a blanket an’ he’d 
be a genuine Injun.” 


11 


12 LAERY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 
Ned; look at him!’’ 

The grinning, chattering little mob conld 
not have written a better explanation for the 
people on the platform to tell just why they 
had waited so long for the six forty-five train. 

As they reached the edge of the crowd, 
Larry Burke, one of the two captives, held up 
his hand for silence. His tall, athletic form 
contrasted strangely with that of Ned Cross, 
his mischievous little roommate, who stood 
beside him. 

‘‘Greetings I” said Larry, “and thank you 
for giving me a chance to say it. ’ ’ 

“Same here!” piped Ned, imitating the 
voice and pose of his comrade. 

“Save the low comedy, Ned; you might 
need it,” said Sam Gardiner, a junior. 
“Larry, do you feel fit for a football battle 
or two?” 

“Oh, always,” said Larry, “and you, too, I 
suppose.” 

This brought a laugh all around) for 
Sammy, be it understood, “went in” for 
everything. Defeat did not discourage him, 
and success, no matter how moderate in de- 
gree, elated him unduly. 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


13 


At this point two hundred pounds of hu- 
manity, shaped like a barrel and named 
Stubby Clarke, stepped — almost rolled — for- 
ward, grabbed Larry by the arm and as- 
sumed as critical an expression as his fat 
face would permit. 

‘‘Larry,’’ said he solenmly, “what’s the 
prescription for form and condition such as 
you display on this occasion 1 ’ ’ 

“Oh,” said Larry, “tramp forty or fifty 
miles a day, take a few long canoe trips, try 
heavy portages and live out of doors with 
the sun and rain. Why? Do you want to 
try it?” 

Stubby backed away as if he feared 
Larry might bundle him off to do it right 
then. 

“He’d go without his dinner first,” said 
Ned. 

“But, then, fellows, you needn’t be so 
funny ; you know very well what a command- 
ing figure Stubby would make in a canoe,” 
spoke up Alan Baldwin, “official fusser” of 
the Pi Sigs. 

A general laugh followed these remarks. 
Stubby waited until it had subsided, then he 


14 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


emitted a colorless ‘‘Ha, ha,’^ and retired 
to the center of the crowd. 

Just then Alan Baldwin stepped out of the 
group and led up a serious-faced, angular 
freshman, whom he introduced to Larry and 
Ned as “Mr. White — Dave WKite, not a 
Lochinvar, but come out of the West!’’ 

“ You understand, of course,” said Larry, 
grasping White warmly by the hand, “that 
Ned and I as sophomores, and you as a fresh- 
man, are hated rivals.” 

“And deep-dyed villains in each other’s 
eyes,” added Ned, as he shook hands with 
the Westerner. 

“Don’t frighten me so, boys,” said the 
“rushee,” Smiling good-naturedly. “I’m 
awfully shy.” 

While this reunion had been in progress, 
some of the boys had seen to the hauling of 
the baggage, and as they now came up, the 
cheery throng moved slowly down the de- 
serted platform and turned up College 
Avenue to cut across the campus at the end 
of that thoroughfare. 

As they drew near the edge of the plat- 
form, the boys noticed a flat-chested, be- 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


15 


spectacled youth of twenty, standing, barri- 
caded between two suit-cases which seemed 
too heavy for him to carry. He was peering 
about with his near-sighted eyes as if search- 
ing for something he knew he would not find, 
and, knowing it, was at a loss what to do. 

‘^Anything we can do for youT’ called one 
of the Pi Sigs, as they all hesitated and 
looked at the strange man. 

‘‘You need not bother about me,’’ replied 
he, turning his heavy glasses directly on the 
speaker. “I’ve been in larger cities than 
this without being lost. ’ ’ 

“Oh, yes, certainly,” replied his ques- 
tioner, dryly, as he turned to the others with 
a “Come on, fellows.” 

Otf they went, leaving the stranger to his 
ill-temper. 

It was the custom at Rockwood, long or- 
dained by the Senior Council, for old stu- 
dents to aid freshmen until they were duly 
registered, after which the annual persecu- 
tion was then officially entered upon ; so it was 
little wonder the boys were surprised at the 
sharp retort, which seemed to them quite 
unwarranted. 


16 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

^‘Wise boy/’ observed Stubby, jerking a 
fat thumb toward the newcomer as the stu- 
dents moved away. He ’ll be teaching his 
professors inside of three days.” 

‘‘Oh, I don’t think so,” said Larry. “He 
has heard things and doesn’t know what to 
expect. He’s nervous, and a little homesick, 
maybe, and thought we were going to begin 
hazing him right off. Let him alone a while 
and give him a chance to settle down, then 
we’ll know what he has in him.” 

“I’m anxious to hear all about your camp- 
ing trip,” put in Charley Morgan, as the 
group turned down College Avenue. Char- 
ley was a brother to Bill and John, who, as 
junior and sophomore, had promised the boy 
a good hazing from the time when he donned 
the Pi Sig pledge button the previous spring. 

“Shut your head, Chang. Little boys 
should not be so inquisitive,” reminded 
Johnny with withering emphasis. Larry 
grinned. 

“Sounds like home, doesn’t it, Ned?” he 
chuckled. “That’s all right, Chang; we’ll 
be only too glad to have an audience all win- 
ter to listen to our real and fictitious yarns 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


17 


of the tall and nncnt regions in sonthern 
Labrador. Yon know Lad Russell wanted 
some one to help him with his mapping in 
his geology work; so we had some time, be- 
lieve me; just the three of us, with a half- 
breed, Pierre, to cook and do the heaviest 
drudgery. Oh, it was some gay life, wasn’t 
it, Ned?” 

Count me in when Dad calls the roll for 
the next summer,” returned Ned, liked 
it that well. But it will be still better next 
year up in the northern part where only the 
Indians and Eskimos live. But we haven’t 
come to that yet. Tell me what the pros- 
pects are this year in football. Is the whole 
team back — that is all the men who are eli- 
gible?” 

^^Yep,” replied Joe Stanley, who like 
Larry had made the team last season as a 
freshman. ^‘Of course we are going to miss 
Don and Irving, but that isn’t what is wor- 
rying Gordon so much. Dick says he 
scarcely knows how to coach under the new 
rules. I saw him this afternoon, and I judge 
he’ll make his call for candidates in another 
day or two.” 


18 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


understand one of our interscholastic 
pledges looks almost like ’Varsity mate- 
rial?” commented Larry, remembering the 
sporting sheet he had been reading on the 
train. 

‘^Oh, Wallie Rogers, you mean. Yes. 
You bet; he would make good at quarter if it 
weren’t that Pierce is back again. He’ll get 
some good experience on the second team, 
and with the freshmen, though, that will 
ripen him for next year. ’ ’ 

‘H’m going out for class football, my- 
self,” grinned Ned. 

Stubby chuckled. 

^‘Oh, that’s a good one! Why, you half- 
grown pole vaulter, the Fresh team will 
break you in two.” 

‘‘All right, old hippo, the Fresh team will 
have it to do, if I can make good,” replied 
the unperturbed little sophomore. “Honest, 
Stub. I’m hard as — as — as a Trig. A. exam., 
from this camping-out game. I don’t weigh 
anything, I know; but I’m ready to stack up 
against you in the class series.” 

“Your bluff is called, right now; I’ll go 
out if you will. ’ ’ 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


19 


The two gravely shook hands before their 
bantering was taken np again. 

Earlier in the afternoon a light shower 
had brightened all the lawns and the oak- 
lined campus along which the stroll toward 
their fraternity house took them. With a 
clean broom, the rain had swept the gleam- 
ing white macadam and the narrow asphalt 
streets. Larry thought he had never before 
seen the place look so bright and welcome. 

On the way they passed vacant lots or 
open stretches of lawn on which other under- 
graduates with little caps hanging on the 
backs of their heads in defiance of all known 
laws of gravity were playing catch, batting- 
up flies, or throwing long, twisting spirals 
with footballs, or practising punting and 
drop kicking. There was a delightful fa- 
miliarity and disregard for stiff convention 
in the hearty tones with which they bantered 
each other, a welcome disregard for stiff for- 
mality in the red and grey sweater vests 
many of them wore. 

When they approached the gymnasium two 
scantily-clad track athletes came slipping in 
from a cross-country run, their long easy 


20 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


strides taking them tirelessly through the 
maze of students and townspeople calmly 
overlooking the matter of attire and making 
way without question. 

Mingled with the passing groups were a 
few stoop-shouldered young men, with the 
inevitable eye-glasses of the confirmed 
‘‘stude,’’ who has sacrificed too much for the 
knowledge he is obtaining at this meeting 
place of all extremes. To all of them Larry 
seemed well-known, despite the fact he was 
still an underclassman. Many a ‘^poler,^^ as 
a diligent student was called in the college 
vernacular, threw him a grin and a ‘‘Hello, 
old man!’’ while the football enthusiasts 
shouted, “Well, well, Larry! Glad to see 
you back ! ’ ’ 

It thrilled the tall, freckled-faced sopho- 
more and helped to rekindle his warm re- 
gard for all that pertained to the old college. 
He smiled happily as he glanced across the 
campus to where the grim, stately college 
halls towered in the dusky shadows like 
medieval turreted castles. 

Squirrels chattered overhead or fearlessly 
descended from the tree-tops to scamper 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


21 


back with any morsels that might be tossed 
to them. A late robin’s liquid chirp sounded 
from the overhanging oaks. A fresh earthy 
smell, from the closely-cropped campus and 
the dampened leaves plastered to the walk, 
filled the air. The sunset was fading, but at 
the end of the avenue, and over beyond the 
gently rolling green, Larry and Ned caught 
a gleam of dark blue which reminded them 
that Lake Crystal lay waiting for them to 
swim again in its waters or row once more 
over its glassy surface. 

With a last glance at the lake, the party 
turned up Emerson Street toward the chap- 
ter house, passing a few town girls in duck 
skirts and red sweaterettes, who swung 
slowly along, busily engaged in conversation 
with college ^^fussers,” irrespective of ex- 
tremely personal remarks that came from 
the Chi Beta Pi and Delta Eho Sigma chap- 
ter houses’ broad verandas. 

‘^There’s Steve Mitchell,” remarked Ned, 
nodding at the Senior across the street. 
Then they turned into their own yard. 

Out there on the open veranda, nearly 
thirty undergraduates and young alumni 


22 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


were singing light-Reartedly, as if no care 
would ever cause a serious worry or even a 
momentary fret. Sandwiched between the 
songs came spontaneous bursts of laughter 
and fragments of gay repartee shouted back 
and forth from rail to rail. Larry’s heart 
beat high with the pleasure of his college 
home-coming, so unlike his hesitating march 
up this same walk just one year before. 

As he was recognized a hearty chorus of 
welcome greeted Ned and himself. The fa- 
miliar old strains, ‘‘For He’s a Jolly Good 
Fellow” gave the cue to all the noise, so that 
the Betas across the street, lost interest in 
“spiking” two promising freshmen long 
enough to remark: 

‘ ‘ Larry Burke is back again. That means 
the left-tackle position is sure to be taken 
care of right this year.” 

Larry was left with a tightening to his 
throat so that he could not find words to re- 
spond for a moment. Then after having 
clasped hands with the old boys who crowded 
to meet him on the steps, he was introduced 
to several prospective rushees and a chosen 
group which already wore the enamel button 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 23 

showing their choice among the local fra- 
ternities. Among these pledges were Harry 
Reynolds, known more generally as 

Happy,’’ Nat Fisher, Oliver Winn, and 
Wallace Rogers. 

From the first moment of meeting, he felt 
especially drawn to Rogers. His was a 
clean-limbed, lithe body, snrmonnted by a 
finely shaped head. He was of medium 
height and appeared rather too light to stand 
the grind of a hard football season well ; bnt 
Hick Gordon, whose coaching ability was gen- 
erally approved, quietly decided he was the 
man to take the place of Pierce, veteran 
quarter-back on the ’Varsity when he would 
be graduated in another year. 

Seen in a track suit, Wallie seemed un- 
usually slender and frail; but his firmly 
muscled legs had carried him often over the 
cinder path at a speed seldom equalled by a 
boy of eighteen. He could be relied upon 
in either of the sprints, but as Tommy Lane 
was thoroughly dependable there, Gordon 
had already picked him for the hurdles, after 
seeing him take the high flights in the last 
Rockwood interscholastic. 


24 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Wallie’s features were strikingly pleasing; 
his mouth and nose delicately moulded, his 
eyes black and snappy like Ned^s and his 
hair, thick, black, and curly. He had an 
irresistible manner which quickly won a host 
of friends, not the least firm of whom was 
Ollie Winn, to whom had been extended 
favors by all the local chapters in an effort 
to persuade him to pledge with them. 

Ollie was almost identical in build, al- 
though he was much more of a blonde. In 
a few hours they had become so firmly at- 
tached to each other as to be practically in- 
separable, much as Larry and Ned had 
chummed in high school or Sammy and Alan 
Baldwin at Rockwood. Ollie was not espe- 
cially athletically inclined although he had 
been known to play a creditable game of base- 
ball in his prep school. 

Happy Reynolds was something of a 
second edition of Stubby Clarke, always 
good-natured and full of jokes, although he 
was lucky enough to lack Stubby’s abnormal 
appetite for ‘‘hot dogs” and pie. 

Nat Fisher was a rather quiet, semi-dig- 
nified freshman, full of earnestness and de- 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


25 


sire to get all that was possible out of his 
college course by putting as much into it as 
was possible in both study and general in- 
terest in the atmosphere that encloses every 
college community. 

Charley Morgan was one of three brothers 
whose wealth and social position had left 
them absolutely unspoiled as they grew up. 
Although they kept an automobile, even at 
college, they were more democratic in man- 
ner and certainly more ordinary in attire 
than the average student at Rockwood. 
Billy Morgan, now a junior, had played the 
good-natured tyrant last year; while Johnny, 
since he had become a sophomore, promised 
to take it out on ‘ ‘ Chang. 

Larry smiled with satisfaction as he 
chatted with this group of pledges, then took 
his share in the entertainment of several 
^‘rushees’’ who might soon be added to the 
list if they proved absolutely congenial. 

One rather loudly dressed, flashy fresh- 
man, Spangler, was attempting to make him- 
self conspicuous by relating, without any 
timely connection, several stories of his 
’Varsity Butfet orgies at the time of the in- 


26 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

terscholastic, when he was being rushed by 
the Chi Betas. As the boy was a guest of 
the chapter, Larry tried to be agreeable to 
the brass-throated freshman, but was vastly 
relieved when two of the Chi Betas strolled 
over to bear him off for some later engage- 
ment. 

‘^If that is his idea of making a hit with 
us, he’s rather mistaken in sizing up our 
bunch,” Larry remarked in a low tone to 
Danny Long, captain and stroke of the 
’Varsity eight oar. 

‘^Rather,” was the oarsman’s laconic com- 
ment. ‘‘But a crowd of these preps get 
that bum steer and think all the boys who 
put on a fraternity badge are tin-horn 
rounders. 

“But then it happens that isn’t the only 
thing against Spangler. He’s awfully fresh. 
He has a number twelve opinion of his 
number three personality. He queered him- 
self right this afternoon with the Belts. 
Edwards says they didn’t bid him at all, but 
when he was leaving he remarked with more 
condescension than any one could imitate: 
‘Oh, well; if I decide to join a fraternity. I’ll 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


27 


let yon fellows have another look in/ 
Imagine it!’’ 

‘‘I can’t. It sounds too impossible. He’ll 
get his, sure enough, when hazing opens Fri- 
day night. If he stays the four years, 
though, I’ll bet he is cured at the end of his 
course. He has something to learn outside 
of the curriculum.” 

Dan blew a smoke ring into the air and re- 
flected a minute. 

have an idea that Spangler will he sore 
on our bunch for ignoring him, as he will be 
quick to think it. It wouldn’t surprise me 
to see him try to line up the freshmen against 
us in the general elections. I understand he 
is already talked of for freshman president 
so he will probably have some political power. 
Watch out for his opposition when you put 
up Ned for the managership of the Roch- 
woodian/^ 

‘^Thanks, but I think it will take more 
than him to spoil Ned’s chances. Ned is 
too well-liked to be overlooked, and his win- 
ning the pole vault last spring in the inter- 
collegiate brought him pretty well into the 
lime-light. But I’m going to see some more 


28 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


of these freshmen before they get a chance 
to leave.’ ^ 

The next rnshee Larry found himself chat- 
ting with was of an entirely different type 
— ^White, a modest, well-bred Westerner of 
twenty-three who had earned his own money 
on a Colorado ranch to put himself through 
a four-year course in engineering. He was 
a self-reliant chap, two years older than 
Larry, making the sophomore hesitate in 
making advances in spite of White ’s friendly 
open smile and twinkling eyes. ‘‘Silent 
Dave,” the boys dubbed him after they grew 
to know him better. 

All save Ned and Larry had already ex- 
pressed themselves strongly in favor of 
White before this evening, and the sopho- 
mores’ votes were all that were needed be- 
fore making a rushing proposition to the 
young Westerner. 

It was not long before “Deacon” Ran- 
dolph, a young alumnus on his vacation from 
his New York law office. Long Dan, Ralph 
Turner, Bill Morgan, and Larry took White 
for a leisurely inspection of the excellently 
equipped chapter house, ending with the 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


29 


‘ ‘ spike in Dan’s front room with its view 
of the mo on- silvered lake. 

Down on the veranda below, Alan Baldwin 
and Charlie Bates were again fingering their 
mandolin and guitar while most of the young 
alumni and active undergraduates swung 
into the stein song, and then into local col- 
lege airs. It was not long before Alan’s 
clear tenor led the voices into a convivial lit- 
tle winter chant for which Ralph Turner had 
composed both words and music just the 
year before: 

‘‘Ha-Ha! 

Gather near ! 

Come in close, shut out the chill, 

Balk the snow-storm ghost’s evil will. 

Gather close in friendship’s fold, — ^pull your chair 
into the ring. 

For our blaze shall dull the keenness of the cold as 
you sing! 

As we sing ! as we sing ! as we sing ! 

Stuff your pipe without a care, and forget the 
whining storm. 

All the boys are gathered where friendship bonds 
are close and warm: — ” 

Randolph did not wait for the chorus below 
to finish the song. Motioning White and the 


30 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


others to the Morris chairs and to the win- 
dow seats, he plunged into the subject at 
hand with brusque sincerity. 

^‘We. will not take much of your time, 
White, to put our proposal to you,’’ he be- 
gan, placing one foot on a chair and leaning 
forward to meet squarely the curious eyes 
of the young Westerner. ‘‘I believe in the 
two days you have been here, you have 
gained a fair idea of the five local frater- 
nities here, their purpose in general ; and per- 
haps also have compared the qualities which 
make all five somewhat different. It is not 
necessarily criticising any of the other 
houses to say I believe we have the crowd 
of fellows which will prove most congenial to 
you if you accept our invitation to join us. 
That is a big thing to consider when map- 
ping out a four-years ’ course, as I think you 
will agree. 

^^You are apt to look at things with a per- 
spective a little different from that of the 
average freshman who comes here just be- 
cause his father or brother has been through 
this college; and I will just touch for a mo- 
ment on something most freshmen would not 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 31 

consider seriously. You may judge for 
yourself wliat part our organization is tak- 
ing in the college life of this year, hut may 
not be familiar with any of our chapter tra- 
ditions. Briefly, I will try to sum up the 
majority of our alumni by saying they are 
men who have always proved live, aggressive 
and efficient. They have taken our local 
slogans to heart and done things outside of 
college as well as in it; and if you join us, 
you will have the comradeship of some of the 
big leaders in a score of different lines.” 

Randolph looked about at the pennants on 
the walls as if to gain inspiration, then con- 
tinued : 

‘^In this very room some of these men 
have bucked their law and medic and engi- 
neering exams. Bert Hardy, the district at- 
torney leading the big fight against the rail- 
road grafters, used to hang his football togs 
in that closet in the days before we had the 
new gym to dress in. Will Rainey, the busi- 
ness baron, and Prof. Farley, the psychol- 
ogy shark, once roomed together here. In 
Stevens room here next door, Jimmy Allen, 
’01, used to experiment with his test tubes 


32 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

and famous chemicals, while his brother, 
^‘Dug,’’ was planning in detail the irriga- 
tion schemes he is now working out in 
Egypt. In still older days the chapter 
knew such men as Congressman Walker and 
Brigadier-General Owen who was killed at 
Gettysburg. This year the names of fifteen 
of our living alumni appear in the latest edi- 
tion of ‘Who’s Who in America.’ That’s 
not the highest honor in the world, I know; 
still it does mean something. ’ ’ 

The young attorney smiled at his own en- 
thusiasm. 

“There’s no heading me off when I hit that 
trail,” he laughed. “You will understand 
why I am telling all this to you — to hint of 
our chapter traditions in addition to the tra- 
ditions of the college at large.” 

“lam convinced of all that,” spoke White, 
quietly. ‘ ‘ The question in my mind is : will 
the influence inside of the close inner circle 
be as valuable to me as the contact with 
more of the men outside ? ’ ’ 

“You need not worry about that. No man 
in this crowd is allowed to sulk in his tent 
like Achilles. The man who spends too 


ENTER, SIX FRESHMEN 


33 


much time in an easy leather chair with his 
feet perched on the mantel is prodded to 
hustle for something outside. In that way, 
competing for the things the other leaders 
are competing for, he meets all the top-notch- 
ers in the college. And the chapter takes 
interest in his interest, whatever it may be. 

‘‘Look here; Grindy Morris, who grad- 
uated with a bunch of honors last spring, 
started out by being only a grind; but by 
rubbing elbows for four years with the foot- 
ball, track, and crew men, fussers, debaters 
and literary lights, Grindy took on polish. 
At the same time he helped to polish them in 
turn. It’s an even exchange. We give you 
and you give us. It’s like putting a lot of 
jagged rocks together in a bag. If they are 
shaken up enough they will make each other 
smooth in the end. There’s no doubt that 
we shall be able to do a lot for you ; and un- 
less I am making a wild shot, you will be able 
to do us just as much good. Will you call it 
a go?” 

Silent Dave White looked slowly from one 
face to another, then rose to his feet. 

“Yes,” he said, laconically. 


CHAPTER II 

THE ANNUAL CLASH 

^‘Lock-step, fellows! Aw, closer! Shrink 
np that line. That^s better; now get ready 
— the pistol will set yon otf in a minute.’^ 
‘‘When shall we tie them npT’ 

“That will all come later. Jnst remem- 
ber at the start to squeeze close until you 
have rammed through. Go clear to the pole 
on the first rush if you can, and it wonT be 
necessary to use the rope. But if you are 
stopped, then scatter and tie them up. With 
half their bunch out of the scrape you can 
fight through to the pole, sure ; but you must 
work fast.^^ 

The voluble juniors supervising the fresh- 
men formation were busy pushing the 
heavier men into the entering wedge at the 
head of the solid phalanx being formed in 
the shadow of the gymnasium. Having been 
defeated last year by the freshmen, they 
were anxious enough to gain revenge by a 
34 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


35 


freshman victory this autumn over their 
rivals. 

It was College Night, the first Friday since 
the opening of the new semester, and the 
program of the evening would usher in the 
traditional three weeks of particularly 
severe hazing, which was permitted by the 
senior council. 

Meanwhile, the dark mass of sophomores, 
wisely togged out in football pants and 
sweaters, or clothes which could not he easily 
torn from them, clustered about the flag-pole, 
where they had securely wired the tanned 
leather hide which served as their pennant. 

This was the freshman goal. If the sopho- 
mores were able to protect that banner for 
twenty minutes after the firing of the pistol, 
they would have done something which no 
other class had done in the last seven years 
— have won the pole rush twice consecu- 
tively. 

‘‘Some more of you lighter men collect in 
that ring around the pole,’’ ordered Hen- 
derson, the sophomore president who had 
been elected just the day before. “And 
don’t you other fellows forget how you are 


36 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


to pole off their line when they try to ram 
ns. Well, what’s this; have they sent down 
a pair of spies?” 

He peered anxiously into the dark beyond 
the flickering lights, beyond which hundreds 
of spectators were massed, then recognized 
Joe Stanley and Larry who had previously 
been delegated to watch the movements of 
the freshmen and inform the class shortly 
before the rush itself was started. 

‘‘What luck?” Henderson queried, as the 
two scouts came within hailing distance. 

“Huh, they have us outnumbered three- 
fifty to two-seventy-five,” reported Joe 
gloomily. “But that isn’t the worst. They 
have a lot of window cord and they propose 
to tie up a lot of us so as to outnumber the 
fighting force still more.” 

“Our only hope lies in the short time for 
the rush,” added Larry. “It looks as if 
they have us outnumbered by far the better 
part of a hundred. Still, I believe we can 
fight them off until the twenty-minute gun 
ends it. ’ ’ 

“All ready, sophs?” called the' timer. 

“Ready!” echoed Henderson, and the re- 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


37 


port of the pistol followed on the heel of his 
word. 

From around the corner of the gym- 
nasium came the heavy tramp of scores who 
had locked step so closely they could not 
gain their speed at first. A dozen juniors 
on the flanks were harrying their proteges 
with shrill shouts of advice. Soon their 
cries were lost in the general roar of the 
shouting crowd, which poured down a slight 
knoll with increased momentum, gaining con- 
fidence now that all was over but the shout- 
ing. 

Faster and faster came the charging for- 
mation, the wedge at its head, ready like a 
heavy spear seemingly sure to be driven 
deeply into the heart of the knot protecting 
the flag-pole. 

Had it hit the clustered circle as it was 
intended, this phalanx could scarcely fail to 
pierce the compact mass, but Larry did not 
intend that it should strike head on. 

With Joe Henderson, Bruin’’ Bear, 
Johnny Morgan, and some two score other 
of the heavier sophs, he formed a similar 
although a much less powerful formation. 


38 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


and as the freshman flying squadron was al- 
most ready to crash into the class they took 
it by surprise with a flank movement. The 
sophs made no effort to stop the pile-driv- 
ing force of the freshman class. It was con- 
tent merely to turn the head of the long 
column to one side, where it parted oflf a 
part of the clustered circle, hut did not 
drive into the mass straight through to the 
pole. 

At the same time the mass of sophomores 
began to revolve, whirling the freshman 
column otf still further to the side. With 
the head of the column turned effectively, the 
rest of the long line doubled up and drifted 
sidewise into the second-year class. The 
first danger had been well averted, but the 
next was to be met. 

‘‘Now for the ropes cried a voice which 
Larry recognized as that of Spangler. 

Realizing the impossibility of re-forming 
in the solid formation so as to crash hack 
again into the mass of sophomores, the fresh- 
men followed the suggestion. Bits of win- 
dow cord and clothesline ropes were fished 
out of their pockets and in groups of two and 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


39 


three the new class threw itself upon the 
fringe of the clustered guard. 

The noise was soon deafening. Every one 
of the six hundred was calling for assistance, 
giving advice, or screaming out some order 
for the good of his fellows. Struggling 
sophomores, overpowered by two or three 
men, were soon tied up. 

In ten minutes the campus was strewn 
with dark forms. 

Many of the second-year class tried to un- 
tie the ropes which bound their friends, and 
were tied up themselves while making this 
effort. Most of them were outfitted in foot- 
ball pants, or some old clothes from the pock- 
ets of which all their possessions had been 
emptied, so only a half-dozen had any knives 
with which to cut the cords. The first of 
these to attempt to cut the bonds of his room- 
mate was ruled out by the senior council 
which saw the danger of accidents in a strug- 
gle over an open knife. 

It was quickly realized therefore that a 
sophomore once bound was practically out 
of the contest. Of course some pieces of 
rope were taken away from the freshmen. 


40 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

but the dwindling number of sophomores 
found it more advisable to protect the pole 
directly than to risk the contest in the 
open. 

By the time fifteen minutes had passed the 
incoming class still active in the scrap out- 
numbered the defenders of the pole two to 
one. 

So far Larry had resisted the efforts of 
the newcomers to keep a watchful eye on 
the pole, but when he saw Joe Stanley borne 
off by Spangler and three others, he rashly 
rushed out to attempt a rescue. On the way 
he passed Ned and Bruin Bear who were 
trussed up tightly. He did not stop for 
them now, but overtook the wrestling group 
a few steps beyond. Spangler turned to 
meet him, while two others ran to the fresh- 
man’s aid. 

In a minute Larry was fighting to keep 
from being roped himself. Spangler over- 
anxiously stepped in to grapple, but Larry 
seized his right arm by the wrist, threw his 
hip in low as he stooped, jerked forward 
quickly and sent the husky freshman flying 
over his shoulder to the turf. Before he 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


41 


could try any more wrestling tricks, Ms arms 
were seized from behind. 

Spangler, thoroughly angry at being toyed 
with in this manner, took pleasure in knot- 
ting his wrists together so tightly that the 
cord almost stopped the circulation in 
Larry’s arms. In anotlier instant the sopho- 
more lay beside Joe, listening to Ms choice 
comments as they fussed about, trying to 
slip the ropes so they could rejoin their 
badly pressed comrades. 

Spangler was back in the thick of it now, 
recognized as one of the scrap captains, and 
cheerfully obeyed by Ms classmates. Under 
his gesticulated orders, the greater mass of 
freshmen collected on the south side of the 
pole, wrenching away the stalwart guard five 
or six at a time and passing them back 
through their strong lines to be taken care of 
by those at the end. 

It needed but two minutes to eat a way 
through to the pole, and the freshman leader 
was mounting the greased pole in a minute 
more, boosted by those below. 

He jerked frantically at the leather ban- 
ner. The lower half of it came loose from 


42 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

the wire wrappings, and tore lengthwise in 
his grasp. This he flung below, then de- 
voted his attention to the other fragment 
which stubbornly resisted his tugs. 

Meanwhile the sophomores in one last 
rally surged in and recaptured the pole. 
Henderson mounted on the shoulders of 
Walt Nelson and some one else Larry could 
not recognize, pulled the freshman down by 
the legs, then the powerful waves of fresh- 
men surged again about the foot of the pole. 

This time Wallie Rogers was lifted up to 
try to free the remaining half of the ban- 
ner. Several futile tugs convinced him that 
it was necessary to unwrap the fine strands 
of wire, and he set to the task of untwisting 
the wire without regard for his fingers. 
But soon after he had unloosened the second 
wrapping, the 'pistol of the timer brought 
him to the end of his task. 

The senior council consulted. 

^‘We got part of it down. ThaUs all that 
was necessary,’’ urged the freshmen. The 
sophomores pointed to the remaining half 
of the banner dangling from the pole. The 
arguments became hot. 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


43 


Henderson and all the rest of the sopho- 
mores who had been lucky enough to escape 
being trussed, spread out and quietly un- 
tied their classmates while the entire fresh- 
man class crowded forward to convince the 
judges. 

‘Hf there is going to be another scrap 
over it, we want all of you,’’ he laughed as 
he undid the cords of Larry’s wrists and left 
him to untie his ankles. But no disorgan- 
ized scrap was to be tolerated by the se- 
niors. 

‘ ^ Stand back, fellows, and let the two class 
presidents talk it over with us,” shouted 
Long Dan after trying to answer fifty in- 
quiries that came simultaneously. Hender- 
son and Spangler engaged in a short con- 
ference with the chosen senior committee, 
then Dan announced: 

^Ht is ruled a tie.” 

A storm of protest came from both sides. 
Stilling this with upraised hand, he con- 
tinued : 

^^Such a thing has never happened before 
so there is no precedent to guide us, but Hen- 
derson and Spangler have agreed to let the 


44 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


decision rest on the result of a pipe scrap 
to-morrow afternoon on the football field at 
two o’clock. Each side will choose twenty- 
five scrappers. The rules will be posted to- 
morrow on the bulletin board. That’s all 
for to-night, but I might warn some of you 
freshmen that the three weeks of live hazing 
is now on.” 

Taking the hint, most of the newcomers 
broke for their rooms; but many who got a 
tardy start were corralled by the sopho- 
mores. 

Tied into a long line with the knotted cord 
that a short time before had bound their 
captors, they were marched down to Proxy’s 
home in single file, lock-step, and to the dis- 
mal chorus, ^‘We love our homes, we love 
our homes, but oh, we miss our mammas ! ’ ’ 

With a grotesque sophomore band lead- 
ing the chain gang, the march proceeded 
about the town for twenty minutes, the ap- 
pearance of the newcomers growing more 
weird as time went on. Several of the ring- 
leaders were soon crowned with weeds and 
others had a stiff collar of corn stalks 
knotted about their necks with handker- 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 45 

chiefs, the ends standing np comically behind 
their ears. 

After the line had passed a carriage shop 
on the edge of the town, the white faces be- 
came streaked with stripes of black and red 
paint, smeared on with more regard for 
thoroughness than for its artistic effect. 
At times the sophomore leaders halted the 
chain gang and shouted lustily : 

‘‘Freshman rally — Class of 19 — this 
way. ’ ’ 

Many of the freshmen who had escaped 
their wily tormentors on the campus re- 
sponded to this cry and were caught by soph- 
omores lurking on the outskirts, behind 
trees. The line steadily grew longer as it 
was marched about the little college town. 

On the way back to the campus the line of 
march lead past the home of President Buil- 
ton, and the ensuing clamor for “Prexy,’^ 
brought that scholarly old gentleman out for 
his traditional speech. He took the entire 
performance in the light of a joke, as many 
similar atfairs in the past had taught him 
to do, making only a few remarks, and arous- 
ing all to a pitch of enthusiasm by leading 


46 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

in the ’Varsity yell in which both classes 
and many of the spectators joined. After 
this the chain gang was led away again, still 
chanting the inane lines telling the fresh- 
men’s affection for home, the dear little high 
school and similar foolishness. Turning 
one corner aimlessly, the line found itself 
filing past the home of Allen, mayor of the 
town and a prominent attorney, an alumnus 
of Eockwood and an old ’Varsity stroke oar 
in former years. 

‘‘Shirt-tails out!” came the inane com- 
mand, according to an order which had be- 
come a tradition a score of years before. 
The Mayor acknowledged the homage with 
a low bow, but the parading students were 
not satisfied. 

“You, too,” they clamored. 

For a time he tried to stand on his dig- 
nity, but when Henderson plucked out the 
shirt for him, he cheerfully assented and 
even led the line in the serpentine dance for 
a block, when his breath gave out, and left 
him puffing for wind. 

The affair wound up on the lake shore 
near the campus, where a bonfire was al- 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


47 


ready burning in readiness when the con- 
victs and the jailers arrived. For a while 
the captives were made to caper about the 
flames performing Indian dances, giving their 
freshmen yell backward, and singing senti- 
mental songs with ^^Ki-yi-hump-de-day’s” 
following every third word; all being gently 
caressed with a barrel stave if any one went 
far wrong. 

In time Henderson held up his hand for 
silence. 

^^Let us hear what our learned freshman 
president has to tell us on whale-ology he 
urged, ^^some pathetic little ballad about the 
last shark he caught.’’ 

In response to the clamor for enlighten- 
ment, Spangler began with easy grace : 

‘^Once there was a little heliotrope-and- 
crimson sword-fish.” 

Rotten! Rotten! ” broke in the chorus. 

Which lived in a test tube in the science 
lab, when not ambling over the greensward 
devouring war- ships on the lake!” 

^ ‘ Awful ! ’ ’ 

‘‘His favorite delight was to burrow under 
the Tigi islands and toss them up into the 


48 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


air with one hand while he stirred a pan of 
fudge with the other wing!’’ 

‘^Oh, fudge! Tell it to Sweeney! Chuck 
it! Drop the chin symphony! Gesture with 
the right hind foot a while ! Get the hook ! ’ ’ 

Henderson again took charge of the hors- 
ing. 

‘‘Would you rather eat a tape measure 
and die by inches or swallow a thermometer 
and die by degrees ? ” he propounded gravely. 

As Spangler silently pondered the query, 
the crowd chimed in again: “Louder! 
Louder! Speak that silence again.” 

“You make me tired. You must think 
you’re trying to guy me?” the yearling re- 
plied angrily. 

“Oh, he almost guessed it, that time. 
Isn’t he bright. 0 my, hark to Plato !” 

In another minute Spangler was furiously 
swearing at the sophomore president, which 
was the worst thing he could have done. 
Henderson merely smiled sweetly. 

“Don’t froth at the mouth, ’ittle boy,” he 
advised, soothingly. “Joe, will you and 
Larry take him down and duck him in four 
feet of water, for the good of the cause?” 


THE ANNUAL CLASH 


49 


For some reason Wallie Eogers chanced 
to be the next victim pushed into the lime- 
light. He drew an order to sing his favorite 
popular air. Wallie was dumfounded. It 
was the one thing he would have avoided if 
he had been given any choice in the matter. 

Could I possibly do something else to 
ditch that?’’ he pleaded, greatly fussed at 
the demand. ‘‘Honestly, fellows, I’m worse 
than a cracked record on a battered phono- 
graph. Anything else — . ’ ’ 

“Chirp up, Caruso! Come through with 
it!” 

Wallie took a long breath and struck into 
the chorus of one of the song hits of the sea- 
son, but could get out only a few bars before 
his voice was drowned by the din of comment, 
in which he distinguished such choice re- 
marks as — “The original quince,” and 
‘ ‘ Forty yards beyond the limit. ’ ’ 

However he kept on as conscientiously as 
possible until Henderson stopped him with a 
wave of his hand, and passed on to the next 
yearling. For a few minutes, Wallie self- 
consciously felt he would never be able to 
live down his dismal failure as a songster; 


50 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


but after several good-natured freshmen had 
made just as consummate idiots of them- 
selves in public, he decided that he might be 
able to survive. 

In fact, his etfort to obey the commands 
of his ‘‘superiors,’^ without being either too 
flippant, or too servile, had gained a great 
deal of tolerance, if not respect, for him. 

‘‘Now all bark at the moon,” cried the 
master of ceremonies, “then we’ll have the 
yells and call it quits for to-night.” 

A little later Allen stepped forward, swung 
his powerful arms in the air, and the full- 
throated ’Varsity yell was pounded out in 
snappy cadence. 

“Again, fellows!” cried Allen, and the 
cheer echoed up and down the lake shore. 

“Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Rockwood, Rockwood, 

Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah!^’ 


CHAPTER III 


THE CLASS SCEAP 

‘‘Heke we are, old war-horse, ^ ^ exclaimed 
Ned, stopping before the bulletin board in 
College Hall in front of the prominent notice 
giving the conditions governing the pipe 
scrap set for that afternoon, to break the 
tie resulting from the annual pole rush. 

Larry stepped up closely behind, gripping 
his little roommate by the shoulders and 
reading over his head. 

Pretty much in detail, isnT itP’ he com- 
mented. First, there is an ordinary six- 
foot gas pipe, placed in the middle of the 
football field, with twenty-five of each class 
back lined up on the forty-five yard line. 
Then everybody is otf with the pistol in a 
scramble for a hold on it. At the end of the 
twenty minutes, the chairman of the Senior 
Council begins pulling apart the remains of 
us and counting up the number of hands on 
51 


52 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the pipe. That’s my understanding of the 
game. What do you sayT’ 

Right again, little bright eyes; at least 
that’s the skeleton of the plan. The other 
rules simply make it plain there must be no 
strangle holds, no rope less than one-quarter 
of an inch in diameter used in tying up the 
boys, no knives used to cut the rope, and so 
on; which need not be worried about. I 
rather like the plan, it will be a novelty. 
Great thing for us, too. We will have equal 
numbers instead of being outnumbered three 
to two the way we were last night. But 
look here ! ’ ’ 

Ned pointed to a notice posted by the last 
year’s manager of the Rockwood magazine, 
calling an election for this year’s business 
manager in another two weeks. 

‘^That means we must get busy, Ned, if we 
are going to land you that job. The Belts, 
Betas, and Lambs are with us on the propo- 
sition but I am afraid the Chi Betas will be 
able to make an alliance with the barbs to 
get the Corwin barb support out for Walling, 
in return for the Chi Beta support of Cor- 
win, who really is a good man for business 


THE CLASS SCRAP 


53 


manager. I don’t know that Walling, 
thongh, wonld make mnch of an editor-in- 
chief. Besides his Chi Beta hunch had the 
honor last year, and isn ’t entitled to it again. 
The job isn’t hereditary.” 

‘‘Barbarians,” usually shortened to 
“barbs,” was the term for non-fraternity 
men. 

“I certainly hope I can land it,” replied 
Ned. “I need the coin. That freshman 
scholarship can’t pull me all the way through, 
even with what I earned this summer on the 
geology trip; and while my father’s financial 
condition is picking up gradually, I don’t 
want to be a burden to him this year. It had 
all of us guessing last spring when the bank 
went under.” 

“Just wait until we open up our cam- 
paign, we’U make it,” Larry reassured him 
heartily. 

“Make what? The class team?” asked 
Walt Nelson, who came up at that minute. 
He still regarded Ned’s assertion to try for 
the sophomore football team in the light of a 
joke. 

‘ ‘ A quiet try won ’t do any harm. Besides, 


54 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

1^11 get some beautiful work-out to put me in 
trim for basketball,’’ came Ned’s quick de- 
fense. ^^Seen the pipe scrap rules!” 

‘‘Yep, just a little while ago! But, say, 
here’s something new. Fall practice in 
baseball announced to start Monday. What 
do you think of burying a live announcement 
like that among these million glee-club and 
debate notices! Well, I’ll be there, catcher’s 
mitt and mask, believe me. I’ll be there if 
I’m strapped down in the hospital.” 

“Well, this looks just as good to me,” 
laughed Larry as he nodded toward another 
notice, from which he read : 

“ ’Varsity football call — Monday night at 
the gym, candidates will meet with the 
coaches for a discussion of the new rules. 
The radical changes in the quarter-back run, 
forward pass, division of the game into four 
periods, and forbidding any one to push or 
pull the man carrying the ball makes the 
rules so new that the former ’Varsity men 
must learn the game over again with the 
novices, and a new man is almost as good 
this year as an old one. First practice on 


THE CLASS SCRAP 


55 


the field will be called for Tuesday afternoon. 
Candidates will be fitted with suits at the 
gym — Gordon. ’ ’ 

Looks as if Coach meant business,’’ ven- 
tured Walt, as the trio strolled out upon the 
campus, where Mac, the aged superintend- 
ent of grounds was tottering about among 
his bonfires of fallen leaves and twigs. 
Larry sniffed the pungent woody smell of the 
smoke which floated up into the air and hung 
low beneath the brown boughs of the oaks 
that lined the street. 

‘ ‘ Somehow that smell always calls up foot- 
ball memories,” said Larry, slowly. ^‘Lots 
of the old grads and coaches have said it’s 
the same way with them, when they first get 
that tang in the air; isn’t it queer? Gee, 
but I’m glad! This is the season I like best 
of the whole year. I couldn’t be pleased any 
more than I am right now.” 

‘‘Reminds me of what Dave White un- 
burdened himself of this morning, ’ ’ laughed 
Ned. ‘ ‘ ‘ Somehow this is just about the way 
I wanted it to be,’ he said, ‘everything 
strikes me as being right — the right kind of 


56 


LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


fellows all through the college, and they dig 
up the right kind of sport. lUs just the 
right kind of a nook in fifty ways.’ ” 

‘^That’s a long speech for Silent Dave,” 
observed Larry. ‘‘He seems to think about 
an hour before he turns loose with any sen- 
timent, at all. I like him immensely, though. 
I suppose the loss of both parents, and hav- 
ing to earn his way from the time he was a 
mere kid, is what makes him so much older 
than the rest of us, even beyond the actual 
year or two in age.” 

That afternoon, twenty-five picked war- 
riors of the two classes met on the gridiron, 
stitf and sore from the bumps and bruises of 
the previous night, but ready to endure an- 
other strenuous fray for the glory of their 
classes. 

Joe Stanley, Bruin Bear, and Larry were 
the only Pi Sig sophomores in the stalwart 
array while only Happy Reynolds and Dave 
White had been picked from the chapter 
pledges to scrap on the freshman team. 
Henderson and Spangler were again the 
scrap captains of the rival forces. 

A large force of townspeople as well as 


THE CLASS SCRAP 


57 


the entire student body gathered for the 
novel contest. Shortly before the seniors 
called the fighting factions to their lines, 
Ned hailed Larry from the side-lines where 
he was accompanied by two Red Oaks girls 
whom the two had met ^s freshmen the year 
before. Catching Ned’^ encouraging ges- 
ture, Larry strode over in his dirty football 
togs, and was hailed with delight by Jane 
Dale and Helene Ware. 

do so hope the sophomores will win, 
Mr. Burke,” enthused Miss Dale as Larry 
left to go to the forty-five yard line a few 
minutes later. 

Larry went to his place with a grin on his 
freckled face, and a feeling that his strength 
had become the strength of ten. 

‘‘Didn’t know you were such a fusser, 
Larry,” kidded Henderson. “Why didn’t 
you call me over, too 7 Being a hero is just 
my line.” 

A clamor of yells from their classmates 
for “Lucky Thirteen,” drowned out Larry’s 
non-committal reply. This was followed by 
howls of derision, and the yelling of the 
other class numerals from the rival class. 


58 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Then Dan Long, as chairman of the senior 
council, backed from the center of the field 
where the short length of gas pipe was 
placed. A moment ^s lull in the cheering 
greeted him as he raised his hand for silence 
and called: 

‘^Sophomores ready 

Henderson nodded, while he dug his toes 
into the turf to get a sprint start with the re- 
port of the pistol. 

“Freshmen ready inquired Danny. 

“Of course!’^ bellowed Spangler. 

The crack of the pistol shot sent the two 
lines rushing towards each other. In an in- 
stant more they had collided, and the strug- 
gle was on. 

In the scramble for holds the sophomores 
were rather more successful than were the 
freshmen, but this advantage was short- 
lived. Larry was among those who first 
gripped the pipe. The melee occupied all 
the interest of the spectators at first; but 
within three minutes the fight began to open 
out when the rival classmen picked and 
closed with their men. 

Adopting the tactics of the night before. 


THE CLASS SCRAP 


59 


the freshmen centered their efforts to tying 
up the men on the fringe of the fight, devot- 
ing two or three to one soph at a time. 

It was not long before the number of op- 
ponents had dwindled enough to permit a 
giant son of Minnesota named Jacobson to 
wind his strong arms about Larry’s waist 
and lift his feet from the ground. Two 
other freshmen tore the sophomore’s fingers 
from the pipe and the three bore him off to 
one side, twisting and jerking to free him- 
self. Two minutes later, despite all his ef- 
forts, Larry was ignominiously tied hand 
and foot and compelled to watch the others 
battling where he wanted to be. 

At the end of the first ten minutes, thir- 
teen of the sophomores were similarly 
treated, while only nine of the freshmen were 
trussed. Henderson saw that he must 
change his tactics. Calling his other class- 
mates from the pipe, he led an untying cru- 
sade, at the same time piling the freshmen 
already tied together with a few guards to 
stand watch over them. 

In another five minutes Larry and the 
others were free and in the fight once more. 


60 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

despite a tardy effort of J acobson and 
Spangler and a few others to keep the pris- 
oners roped. 

The rest of the freshmen, while realizing 
the sophomores were gaining an advantage to 
tell in the end, thought the time of the scrap 
had almost expired, and were putting their 
trust in being able to hold the pipe until the 
welcome pistol shot. 

The time was drawing to a close, but a 
determined assault on the pipe added 
rapidly to the line of prisoners, and before 
long, the freshmen were outnumbered two to 
one. Jacobson, once more plunged back to 
the pipe and fastened his iron grip upon it. 
Spangler and five others gained a hold also 
for one or both of their hands ; but when the 
pistol sounded it was clear even before the 
detailed count was made that the sophomores 
had won by a generous margin. 

‘‘Twenty-one to eleven in favor of the 
sophomores,^’ announced Dan Long, when he 
had finished his tabulation with the help of 
the members of the senior council. And 
twenty-one to eleven soon became the class 
slogan. 


THE CLASS SCRAP 


61 


Larry was as much done up with the stren- 
uous fight as if he had played through two 
full halves of football. Some of the others 
who did not enjoy the benefits of his rigorous 
training, were forced to stretch themselves 
on the gridiron for a moment’s rest. Only 
Jacobson seemed to be untouched by the 
fatigue. He was breathing heavily from his 
herculean exertions, but that was the only 
trace the scrap had left. 

^‘You don’t seem much done up,” re- 
marked Larry. 

‘‘No, I’m rather used to harder work than 
this; in the lumber camps up north,” was his 
reply. 

“That’s fine; I just wanted to ask you if 
you were coming out for the team. We need 
some one as husky as you are to strengthen 
the line.” 

“Yes, come out and beat Larry out of his 
own job at left tackle,” chuckled Joe Stanley 
who approached then. 

“Well, I’m even willing to have that hap- 
pen if it will make the team all the stronger !” 
laughed Larry. “Ever played football, 
Jacobson?” 


62 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

'^Just a little; in my last year in high 
school, two years ago, but I don’t know the 
game under the new rules.” 

‘‘Neither does any one else, not even 
Leonard, the captain, or the head coach. 
We’re all at sea this season and you can 
start even with the vets. Will you come out, 
Jake?” 

The blonde giant broke into a smile. 

“Sure, if the boys want me.” 

“Hurry up, you two,” called Henderson, 
and then went out to join in the class jubilee, 
where the score “twenty-one to eleven” was 
on the lips of all thirteeners. 

The next morning Old Mac awoke to find 
the score painted in the sophomore colors on 
the massive 1874 class granite boulder fa- 
cing the lake. 

Scrub as he did the huge figures could not 
be taken otf the stone. Nor could he remove 
the words: “This monument is erected in 
memory of the dead ones of 1914.” 

This was the most permanent evidence of 
the hazing which occupied the major atten- 
tion of the classes for the succeeding three 
weeks. As usual it soon centered on a score 


THE CLASS SCKAP 


63 


of students who had showed plainly that they 
were most in need of some such thing to 
make them realize their insignificance. 

Among these chosen few was Lionel For- 
rest, the bespectacled student, who had been 
somewhat fresh to the sophs at the train 
upon his arrival, and had continued his 
course by correcting a statement by his 
mathematics instructor already, among other 
things which had made him conspicuous. 

Another was Spangler, who would have 
gained the particular attention of the haz- 
ers anyway by virtue of his office as fresh- 
man president, even had he not adopted 
methods which made him unbearable. 

In defiance of a custom which limited the 
wearing of corduroy trousers to the seniors, 
after Senior Swagger Day, Spangler ap- 
peared at an afternoon class Monday in 
corduroys. What happened to them that 
night was more or less of a mystery, but the 
next day Joe Stanley, Ned, Larry, Hender- 
son, and several others proudly exhibited 
souvenir strips of corduroy, while the muti- 
lated remains of the trousers were nailed to 
a yard-arm of the flag-pole. Larry and the 


64 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

others found time to manage this after they 
had attended Coach Gordon ^s first chalk talk, 
Monday night, on the new football rules. 

A large crowd of pigskin enthusiasts, 
among whom Larry noted Jacobson, turned 
out to this preliminary meeting at the col- 
lege gymnasium. Gordon particularly em- 
phasized the changes in the rules, forbidding 
assistance to the runner, changes in the 
quarter-back run, and forward pass, and the 
new division of the game into four periods 
in place of the old halves. 

He said that it tended to show the days 
of the old cumbersome, sluggish, heavy 
player in football are over, and a big man 
must have speed to keep his place on the 
team. Larry began to realize how much 
good his running of the previous spring 
might do him in this new game. 

The coach ended by handing out copies of 
the new signals to the wearers of the 
and to such other players as he recognized, 
and knew could be depended upon not to 
divulge them, as they would be of incalculable 
value in the hands of any of the rival teams 
they would play later in the season. 


THE CLASS SCRAP 


65 


Fight on, lads,” read Larry, as he 
scanned the slip of paper which gave him 
the key to the signals. ‘‘The letters cor- 
respond to the players from left to right in 
the line, ‘L’ the quarter, and the other three 
letters the three hacks. Numbers from one 
to eight will denote the holes through which 
the ball will he carried, the first being a wide 
run around left end, and the last the same 
run on the other side of the line. The first 
signal will he the letter telling who will carry 
the ball, and the second signal the number 
showing where it will be carried. The 
fourth signal letter or number will be the 
charging signal and the next the signal for 
the snapping of the ball.” 

“Sounds simple enough,” commented 
Leonard, left half and captain of the team, 
who had taken a geat beside Larry. 

“I was just figuring out the signal for me 
to take the ball on a tackle plunge to rest 
the backs occasionally,” added Edwards, 
right tackle, a veteran on the team. “Let^s 
see, ‘0 — two’ and ‘0 — three,’ will catch me, 
Larry. Your numbers will be ‘I — six’ and 
‘I — seven.’ Joe and Herbert will probably 


66 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


have to try a few guards-around dives into 
the line, too, to vary the monotony. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, that’s all very well,” broke in little 
Pierce, who had played the quarter-back po- 
sition for three years, “but we won’t be get- 
ting beyond, starting, passing, falling on the 
ball, and tackling for more than a week. 
You boys don’t need to worry about the 
team-play this soon. I’m satisfied it won’t 
take long to strike our gait, even with the 
new rules, after we can plug up the vacancies 
at right end and full.” 

“What do you think of my find for full?” 
asked Larry with a nod toward Jacobson. 

“First-rate according to size, and he 
showed he had speed in the pipe rush. He 
may do, even if he is only a freshman. ’ ’ 
“Well, tear out of here, boys, and get to 
bed early,” ordered the coach, “everything 
will come around all right if every man holds 
up his part.” 


CHAPTEE IV 

BUCKING A FBAMB-UP 

Pierce’s prediction in regard to the pro- 
gram for the first day’s practice was quite 
true. Work on the charging machine for the 
old line men, quick starting for the backs, 
passing and falling on the hall from all 
angles, and a brisk half-mile run left the 
team, with few exceptions, genuinely 
wearied. Those of the candidates who had 
been smoking, found themselves unable to 
lift into the sprint at the end of the run, 
while Pierce, Leonard, and Larry breezed in 
easily together. 

Fall baseball practice, to get a line on the 
new candidates and to keep the old ’Varsity 
players in good trim, had started the day 
before. Sammy who had pitched in the big 
game with Hilton the previous spring, after 
the regular pitcher had attempted to throw 
the game, was out with the baseball squad, 
although he wished he were able also to at- 
67 


68 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


tend tlie workout on the gridiron, south of 
the diamond. 

The graduation of Cook, ’Varsity catcher 
of the team opened up that position for Walt 
Nelson, who had subbed the last season, and 
it soon became apparent that Dunk Know- 
land liked the battery. The two had prac- 
tised together so long on the broad lawn at 
their chapter home that they worked to- 
gether without the slightest friction. 

Walt had the main requirements of the 
ideal catcher. Above all else he was cool and 
steady as a two-ton boulder, while being 
good-humored and possessed of quick judg- 
ment and good generalship — the sort to re- 
main thoroughly reliable even when the ma- 
jority of the team was on the verge of going 
up in the air. 

He was never rattled, never erratic. He 
caught with certainty and threw fast down 
to second, where Steele vowed he could spear 
the ball with his eyes shut, as it never varied 
in the low, hard whip to the keystone sack. 
Although rather slow in base running, and a 
trifle weak in batting, Walt was aggressive 
enough to cover up his defects. Only the 


BUCKING A FRAME-UP 


69 


presence of Cook, who was just as excep- 
tional a catcher, had barred him from mak- 
ing the team in his first season. 

Sammy was mnch less sure of his posi- 
tion as Vance, another substitute ‘‘curve- 
clerk,’’ was practically his equal. It was 
sure that Sam would be used in many games, 
after he had met the emergency of the Hil- 
ton contest so well, but it was a question if 
he would take the rifle pit at the beginning 
of the most important games. 

Sam lacked great speed and wide curve, 
but was able to mix his straight balls from 
many angles so as to be successful in fooling 
the average batsman. On occasions he was 
able to command the knuckle ball, but often 
lost control of it, and on Walt’s advice em- 
ployed it only once in a great while. One of 
the most etfective balls he threw was the 
ordinary slow ball, when preceded by a few 
speedy inshoots. All his spare time, Sam 
put in trying to pick up the fade-away and 
the spit balls which were Vance’s chief re- 
liance. 

Dave White was the third Pi Sig to ap- 
pear on the baseball diamond. He went out 


70 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Wednesday, and quietly took his place 
among the fielders being instructed by 
Miller and Fleming, who had camped in the 
center and left outer gardens the season be- 
fore. He did not make a favorable impres- 
sion at first on account of his errors in field- 
ing the flies batted out to him; but when he 
took his place at the plate for a hatting try- 
out, his stock arose. 

Donnelly, a second-rate pitcher, was feed- 
ing in the curves while the coach stood be- 
hind Walt, note-book in hand, jotting down 
the weaknesses of his batsmen. 

Knowland’s teams had always been strong 
in batting, and he demanded a batting eye 
of his outfielders above everything else. He 
nodded his head approvingly as White came 
to the plate and took a firm position three- 
quarters facing the pitcher, the weight of his 
body on the right foot some eighteen inches 
back of the plate, where he could step for- 
ward with the left foot in the proper direc- 
tion the instant he had solved the ball. The 
bat was grasped well up the handle and not 
swung too far back. 


BUCKING A FBAME-UP 


71 


As Donnelly rounded in a swift curve, 
Dave stepped back a trifle and drove the ball 
between the first and second bases. A slow 
out-curve be met squarely and placed safely 
over the head of the right fielder. 

Knowland in his approval of the new find, 
caught himself a minute later holding up 
Dave as an example to the next freshman 
who came to bat. 

‘‘Why didn’t you watch the man before 
you?” he asked petulantly, when the boy 
took a wide swing at the ball and missed it 
by three inches. “Hit with that wrist mo- 
tion he uses. Don’t pump your shoulders 
into it as if you were chopping wood. Aw, 
step up or you’ll let him know you’re afraid 
of his swift ones. Come up where you can 
spoil all of them. Where’s that last man? 
I want you to watch him again.” 

At the same time Silent Dave was catch- 
ing the attention of Dunk Knowland, Wallie 
Eogers was making much the same bid for 
commendation on the football field. Back 
behind the bleachers where the freshmen 
held their practice, an under coach singled 


72 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


him out for his speed, and ordered him to re- 
port to Gordon on the regular gridiron for 
practice as a scrub end. 

‘‘I wish you were not so light, Rogers,’’ 
sighed Gordon at the end of practice. 
^'You might stand a chance for Don’s old 
end if you could only stand the gaff; but 
they would smash you like glassware. 
Well; you may go in as quarter on the second 
team in a few days when we get to signal 
practice.” 

This second day was much like the first 
for the ’Varsity men players who skinned 
up their elbows and knees and were soon 
stiff from falling on the ball, after a half- 
hour had been spent in starting, passing, 
catching forward passes, and receiving 
punts. 

The greater part of the big football squad 
was sent to the training quarters after a 
brisk three-quarter-mile run; while Leonard 
and Larry, whose physical condition was bet- 
ter, were allowed to linger in the sunset, to 
make long spiral forward passes and to prac- 
tise punting. 

With the graduation of Irving, the old full- 


BUCKING A FRAME-UP 


73 


back who had done the kicking for three sea- 
sons, the team found itself this year in sore 
need of some one to boot the ball consistently 
more than forty-five yards. 

Larry could average a little better than 
this with his long, loose- swinging leg; while 
Leonard often did much better one day and 
worse the next. It was a toss-up which one 
averaged the better, but the position of the 
captain at half, singled him out as the man 
to do the kicking in the games. 

With the forward passes, Larry had much 
the better of Leonard. Much practice had 
given him the knack of wrapping his long 
fingers firmly about the end of the ball for 
a throw in which he used his weight to drive 
the ball regularly for forty yards. 

^‘Too bad, Larry, you can’t go into the 
back field, where you could have more chance 
at that, ’ ’ observed the captain, studiously, as 
the deepening dusk warned them it was time 
to finish for the day. 

‘‘I’d feel lost anywhere except in the line,” 
laughed the tall sophomore. “You know 
tackle was the only thing I ever played in 
high school.” 


74 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


‘‘Oil, you could get used to it, in a pinch. 
I used to play end myself until I came to 
Rockwood. Unless that big Minnesota fresh- 
man squares up for the position, you may 
have to take full. I’m afraid Williams is 
too slow for it this year; eh, Coach, isn’t that 
right?” 

“Might have to be done, in time,” replied 
Gordon. “But jog two laps for wind, boys; 
then get your cold shower and rub-down. ’ ’ 

These were magnificent autumn days. 
Larry fairly overflowed with life and spirit 
from the moment he sprang out of bed in 
the early morning until he crawled under the 
covers again at night after rubbing out a few 
of the more severe bruises so they would not 
stiffen him for the following day. 

Often he set out for a brisk walk before 
breakfast, across the spring fields with Dave, 
Ned, or Wallie, while the frost still whitened 
the tips of the grass-blades. Everything 
made for satisfaction. He was glad to find 
himself at the breakfast table with a real ap- 
petite, glad to start immediately afterward 
for his eight o’clock recitation, glad to re- 
turn after the morning’s studies and lectures, 


BUCKING A FRAME-UP 


75 


glad to trot out to the training quarters in 
the splendid gymnasium, where he got his 
preliminary rub-down and an expert exam- 
ination under the deft hands of Black Jack, 
who took care to see no Charley-horse would 
lame him nor weak ankle impair his speed. 

At the beginning of the second week there 
was much more signal-practice than before, 
and on the second Wednesday came the first 
scrimmage with the scrub team, on which 
Wallie was playing a consistent game at 
quarter. Breaking through, blocking, charg- 
ing, lift tackles, handling the ball, and other 
fundamentals were still emphasized ; as 
Gordon had always insisted upon a firm 
foundation on which to build team work. 

^^You wouldn’t try to get finicky about a 
crew swinging smoothly together, would you, 
until long after every oarsman had learned 
to row for himself!” he asked, when any of 
the squad hinted the team was not progress- 
ing rapidly. ‘‘Keep your eye on the ball, 
run high, tackle low, learn the rules, and 
watch the runner’s hips to keep him from 
dodging you. Learn these things first of 
all.” 


76 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

Jacobson was given especial tutelage under 
two old ^Varsity full-backs who had returned 
for the first two weeks to coach. He showed 
rapid promise of speed to match his won- 
derful strength, but it was thought best to 
use Williams, last year’s sub, in the first 
game with Griffon, when the Rockwood team 
journeyed to the home grounds of the other 
college on Saturday. 

As the coach had expected, team work was 
absent; but the strong individual offensive 
play of the line more than made up for this, 
and prepared the way for an easy victory. 
With two touchdowns in the first quarter, 
Gordon issued an order to keep the score 
down so as not to give away the strength 
of the Crimson and Grey to rivals who would 
be met later. 

Pierce, with his sharp-sighted policy, 
turned the contest into a valuable practice 
workout, ignoring the weak points through 
which he had scored twice, and trying to 
score through the real strength of the Grif- 
fon eleven. A third touchdown in the last 
quarter was the only remaining score. At 


BUCKING A FEAME-UP 


77 


no stage of the game, did Griffon seriously 
threaten the Rockwood goal. 

But football was not the only stndent in- 
terest. Outside of studies, to which all the 
Pi Sigs devoted regular hours, Larry, Joe, 
Walt, Bruin Bear, Alf Reade, and Johnny 
Morgan had been devoting their spare mo- 
ments for more than a week in pushing 
Ned^s campaign fo‘r business manager of the 
Rockwood magazine. Ned was running on 
the ticket with Henderson, sophomore presi- 
dent, who was an aspirant for editor-in- 
chief. 

Tradition had limited the officers of the 
magazine to Sophomores, just as it had left 
the issuance of the Rockwoodian — the year 
book — to the junior class. Members of all 
the classes were entitled to vote, however, in 
this election so long as they were able to 
show a receipt for subscription during the 
previous year, or a pledge to subscribe again. 

Henderson and Ned were sure of approx- 
imately one-third the independent vote in ad- 
dition to the full vote of four of the locals. 
On the other side was arrayed the Chi Beta 


78 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


faction which had formed an alliance with 
a large barb following under Corwin, a solid 
and capable independent, who wanted the 
business managership. Walling, for the Chi 
Betas, was opposing Henderson. There had 
been a few other little factions originally, 
but before the election Monday noon follow- 
ing the Griffon game, these had been brought 
into line by Walling. 

An unusually strong interest centered in 
the election this year, bringing out a large 
number of subscribers to the meeting which 
comfortably filled the front third of the 
roomy chapel. Alf, who had competed on 
the freshman debate team, nominated Hen- 
derson for editor-in-chief, as soon as a 
temporary chairman opened the nomina- 
tions. 

There were but two names proposed, and 
the introductory speech preceding each was 
equally applauded. It became apparent im- 
mediately the election would be close. 
Larry was fairly confident that the majority 
of his own classmates would vote for Hen- 
derson, but was not sure of the upperclass- 
men. The sophomores’ president expected 


BUCKING A FEAME-UP 


79 


no support from the freshman class as his 
prominence in hazing greatly exceeded that 
of Walling, who had diplomatically held . 
aloof from ruffling the spirits of the enter- 
ing class. 

Tellers were appointed and ballots dis- 
tributed. In a few minutes these were col- 
lected again and were being counted aloud 
from the platform. For some time Larry 
checked off the count on a sheet of paper 
with interest as the vote was called off. He 
realized that much the same vote would he 
expected for Ned, and was convinced that if 
Henderson was defeated, Ned had hut a slim 
chance of election. 

For the first fifty votes, Henderson re- 
tained a slight lead, then there came a long 
run of votes for Walling, with scarcely a 
break. After this, Henderson gained, but 
when the final total was reached it was found 
the sophomore president had received but 
one hundred sixty-three votes to Walling ^s 
one hundred eighty- six. 

^‘Too bad, old man; I’m awfully sorry,” 
said Larry as he warmly gripped hands with 
the defeated. ^Ht was the freshman vote 


80 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

that did it, not that of our own class,’’ de- 
clared Larry. 

‘‘I’m afraid I went after too many titles in 
one year,” returned Henderson, smiling in 
spite of his natural disappointment. “Well, 
I hope Ned has better luck in bucking the 
Chi Beta machine.” 

“A barb candidate will be pretty hard to 
beat,” returned Ned, nervously drumming 
with his fingers on the arm of his seat. 

“Nominations for the business manager 
are now in order 1 ’ ’ shouted the chairman of 
the meeting, to still the general buzz of con- 
versation. 

According to . program. Hale, a Belt, who 
had been chummy with the Pi Sigs ever since 
they had pasted procs together in their first 
year, arose and placed Ned’s name in nom- 
ination with a speech which won applause 
from the upperclassmen as well as from 
Ned’s faction in the class. Corwin was then 
nominated by a barb lieutenant, and was 
given an ovation from the independents. 
Here, according to general expectation, the 
nominations were to be closed; but before 
such a motion could be made. Chase, a 


BUCKING A FRAME-UP 


81 


supporter of Walling, was on his feet. 

nominate Charley Starr,” he shouted, 
and one of the Chi Betas seconded the nom- 
ination. 

In a minute the chapel was in an uproar. 
Starr was a Lambda Omicron Iota, and if he 
ran he would split the support of the wing 
now supporting Ned. He had not enter- 
tained any idea of running, but was popular 
enough to pull votes from both the non-fra- 
ternity contingent and from the fraternity 
faction. 

But the afternoon was full of surprises. 
Scarcely had Chase taken his seat when an- 
other of the Chi Beta wing rose to nominate 
Henry, a Chi Beta and a roommate of Wall- 
ing, who had just been elected editor-in- 
chief. 

This treachery in splitting with the inde- 
pendents whom they had used, to elect one 
Chi Beta fell like a bomb in the barb camp. 
Several of the independent leaders conferred 
while a close friend of Corwin angrily pro- 
tested to Walling. 

It was at this moment when all plans ex- 
cept the underhand schemes of the Walling 


82 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

faction had been shattered and half the 
crowd seemed dazed by the sudden action, 
that Starr took the floor and shouted for 
recognition from the chair. All were anx- 
ious to hear what he had to say, except the 
Chi Betas who thought they foresaw his con- 
templated move, and did not wish him to up- 
set any of their carefully laid plays. 

‘‘Mr. Chairman! Mr. Chairman!’’ cried 
Starr so insistently that even the Walling 
hue and cry could not drown his words. 

“Mr. Starr has the floor,” replied the 
chairman, at the top of his lungs; then 
pounded on the chapel pulpit for order. It 
was not long before the sergeant-at-arms 
and assistants who volunteered, succeeded in 
quieting the one noisy corner, and Starr was 
given a chance to withdraw his name, and 
state his own preference for Ned’s candi- 
dacy. 

Larry, who had been using his influence 
toward this end, breathed a sigh of relief. 

“That helps some,” said Alf Reade. 
“With the barbs and the Chi Beta crowd 
fighting each other over Corwin and Henry, 
it’s a walk-away. The trap Walling sprung 


BUCKING A FRAME-UP 


83 


to split our vote, so Henry could sail into the 
lead, will catch himP’ 

Scarcely had he spoken when Corwin 
leaped to his feet and gained recognition. 

‘‘Mr. Chairman,’^ he cried, “under these 
unexpected conditions, I refuse to be a can- 
didate for office. I resign in favor of Mr. 
Cross.’’ 

Wild applause greeted this statement. 
Before this had died down, Corwin crossed 
the room and shook hands with Ned. 

“They double-crossed our crowd,” he 
said, jerking his head toward Henry and 
Walling, “and all of my friends are after 
their pelts. You’re sure to win, let me con- 
gratulate you now.” 

Ned shook hands with feeling. 

“I was on the point of withdrawing in your 
favor,” he laughed; “I would have done that 
rather than let two of them rake in the hon- 
ors in this way. This job practically means 
a year or so of college for me, and I can’t 
thank you enough for your generosity.” 

The word was passed around, “anything 
to slaughter Walling’s crew,” and all fac- 
tions united to overthrow the machine. The 


84 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


ballots were quickly collected after distribu- 
tion. It took no time for the voters to make 
up their minds, Soon the tellers were call- 
ing otf the results : 

‘^One for Mr. Cross. Another for Cross. 
Cross. Cross. Cross. Cross. Henry. Cross. 
Cross. Cross.’’ 

Larry threw an arm across Ned’s shoul- 
der. 

We’ve snowed them under,” he whis- 
pered. ‘‘You couldn’t dig Henry out again 
in a week. He’s buried under the votes. 
Ned, old boy, get ready to go out with a 
strong-arm talk, for it sure will be up to you 
to hustle ads for the mag.” 

No one this time took the trouble to count 
the votes as they were called off. The out- 
come was a foregone conclusion. At the end 
of the reading the tellers conferred and 
added the result. 

“Mr. Cross has two hundred ninety-two 
votes,” announced the chairman. “Mr. 
Henry has fifty-seven.” 


CHAPTER V 

THE MOCK TRIAL 

‘‘Oh, I donT think he’s half bad at that. 
He has simply stepped in a bit worse than 
the other new professors. The fact that he 
wears a cap almost like the freshmen, and 
smokes a sporty pipe makes him look a trifle 
peculiar alongside Prexy or Doc. Wheaton, 
that’s all. Did you hear how old Mac 
actually mistook him for a freshman and 
bodily ejected him from the campus the other 
night f” 

“No. Go on, Ned,” urged Stubby, from 
his end of the table. Others of the Pi Sigs, 
stowing away a hearty dinner, gave Ned 
at least a small share of their attention as he 
resumed his comment on the latest German 
professor. 

“Well, it seems he wanted to go over some 
papers he had left in his office, and went up 
after them last night at ten o’clock or later, 
when Mac was preparing to close up the 
85 


86 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


library. Seeing a light on the third floor, 
Mac went np and when he found things 
mussed up and this young fellow leaving 
with a lot of papers, he wanted to pinch him. 
Mac insisted he was stealing some test ques- 
tions and they had a beautiful mix-up. The 
fact that he was smoking on the campus 
didnT help any.’’ 

‘‘I rather like him,” co m mented Nat 
Fisher, quietly as befitted a yearling. ‘‘He 
certainly has a sense of humor. Only to-day 
in German A. he let his dignity slide to enjoy 
a joke with the rest of the class. One of the 
studes had just declined ‘dance,’ and he 
moved on to the next verb.” 

“ ‘Bitte, Herr Spangler, decline “to 
drink,” ’ he called out.” 

“ ‘Really, that’s one thing I can’t do,’ 
Spangler came back, and somebody in the 
rear started a low chant: ‘Oh, good-bye, 
booze, forevermore.’ You know how it goes, 
‘My drinking days will soon be o’er’ — and 
all that. It just struck the class as being 
idiotic, and everybody turned loose. And 
Hecht himself was one of the first.” 

“From what I’ve seen of him, I like him 


THE MOCK TRIAL 


87 


well enough/^ remarked Sammy Gardiner, 
as lie took up the anecdotes of the school. 
''I can prove his sense of hnmor. He was 
going over some reference books in the li- 
brary the other day, when some freshman sat 
down at the same table, after taking otf his 
coat and exposing to public view a bright 
green sweater vest, brass buttons, flaming 
red tie and a salmon pink shirt front. 
Everybody gazed at this dress of many 
colors in awe for a minute, while Hecht went 
up to the librarian’s desk, and brought hack 
the big ‘ silence ’ card to hand him. He made 
one hit, I tell you. Funniest thing about it 
was that low-browed Hun didn ’t realize even 
then that his garb was a trifle loud.” 

‘‘Some people lack a sense of humor en- 
tirely, ’ ’ chuckled Ralph Turner. ‘ ‘ I can hack 
your story otf the boards. It was only this 
afternoon this thin-chested young kid we met 
at the station — Forrest, I believe is his 
name — came to me and wanted to influence 
me with the radiance of his character. He 
proposed to interest me in Y. M. C. A. work 
among other projects, never having taken the 
trouble to find out I have been a minor officer 


88 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

in the association all the last three years and 
am still a plngger this season. Oh, it beats 
me to understand it ! ’ ’ 

‘‘You sophs should do something for that 
campus pest,” added Billy Morgan. 
“Chang tells me he has even his own class 
bored to death with him. He makes every 
motion in class meetings, wants the chair- 
manship of all the class committees ap- 
pointed, and just naturally reminds every 
one he is the biggest whirlwind on roller 
skates that ever breezed into this college by 
the inland sea. He’s such a math, shark 
that he is forever correcting his professor, 
so Chang says. Think of it. And he has 
urged me on two occasions to attend prayer 
meetings. Not that there is anything 
against that, but just imagine our class al- 
lowing a half-baked freshie to make himself 
so conspicuous.” 

“Say; is all that straight dope?” queried 
Walt Nelson, directing his question toward 
the freshman end of the table. 

“It’s the surest thing you know,” replied 
Happy Reynolds. “I wouldn’t admit it of 
any classmate if he were not really a campus 


THE MOCK TRIAL 


89 


pest, as Billy says; but Forrest is unbear- 
able/’ 

Alf Eeade, Bruin Bear, and Ned exchanged 
glances with Larry, who remarked : 

‘‘Some public-spirited citizens may attend 
to his case some day.” 

Nothing more was said at that time; but 
after dinner Ned stepped to the telephone 
and called up Henderson, Hale, Starr, Cor- 
win, and some of the others of their class. 
Soon after this, about eighteen of the soph- 
omore class went into secret session in 
Larry’s room. 

All were at a loss for some original idea 
until Stark, a law school chum of Corwin, 
proposed a mock trial in the woods, after 
which the freshman would be found guilty 
by the jury and punished according to the 
sentence meted out by the judge. 

“There’s an idea I’ve never heard of 
being used before,” seconded Johnny Mor- 
gan; and the rest of the group murmured 
approval. “I know where we could find him, 
too, to-night, if we hurry. I couldn’t tell 
where he rooms, but Chang says this is his 
night to call on a young conservatory bru- 


90 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


nette on North Oak Street. We can nail him 
as he shows np there, and spirit him away.^’ 

‘^Sounds fair enough,’’ remarked Hender- 
son. Let’s go.” 

‘‘Just one minute, fellows!” broke in Ned 
suddenly. “Most of you go on over to make 
sure, but I am going to try to get away with 
a little more fun on this. Steve’s costume 
from one of the Mask and Bauble perform- 
ances is still here, and will almost fit me, and 
I am going to make up as that young bru- 
nette. Larry will hook my dress. All the 
rest of you go on.” 

“Beautiful!” exclaimed Starr, as the idea 
struck him first. ‘‘Say, I can just see him 
now.” 

“You sure will make the most blithesome 
conservatory dame who ever caromed over 
a campus,” laughed Larry. “The rest of 
you go on ahead, will you? Hide in the 
neighborhood to nab him if he comes ahead 
of time. Ned will he ready in ten minutes.” 

Indeed it required all of this time for Ned 
to put on the dress over his own clothes, and 
don his wig and hat, and get primped into 


THE MOCK TRIAL 


91 


a neat appearance. Then Larry vowed he 
couldn’t have recognized him on the street. 

They were not too late to precede the 
freshman ‘^fusser,” and Ned took up his 
station on the cold stone steps while Larry 
hid with the others behind the giant oaks 
which lined the walk here as everywhere else 
in the little city. 

‘‘I’m afraid I shall give things away by 
laughing,” chuckled Larry as he took his 
station beside Starr. 

“Listen!” called his companion sharply. 
“Isn’t that our young victim now?” 

He held up his hand for silence, and every 
one listened to the clatter of footsteps ap- 
proaching from the south. A half-minute 
later Forrest, decked out in the black broad- 
cloth in which he had received his diploma 
at high school, turned in at the walk. He 
hastily removed his hat as he caught sight 
of the lonely figure on the steps. 

“Is this Miss Davenport?” he asked in 
surprise. 

“Yes, Lionel,” returned Ned, in high- 
pitched falsetto tones, which doubled up his 


92 LAERY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

hearers. It was a fair impersonation at 
that, however, and passed unnoticed. 

‘^But, won’t you catch cold sitting out here 
on these stone steps. Miss Davenport?” 

‘^Oh, no, Lionel, not if you sit beside me. 
And, Lionel, do call me Theresa — ^it’s more 
aifectionate. Don’t you love me any 
more ? ” 

‘‘Why, why, why, ah, ah, — ^what do you 
mean?” stammered the bashful young man. 
Then as he realized that a joke was being 
played on him, he demanded: “WRo are 
you?” 

Corwin, twenty feet away, exploded with 
laughter he could bottle up no longer. For- 
rest whirled about, ready to run. 

As he turned, Ned disentangled his feet 
from his skirts and sprang upon the fresh- 
man, clapping one hand over his mouth be- 
fore he could yell for his own classmates. 
The other sophomores were on the scene in 
a minute, and soon had Forrest gagged and 
bound. 

They took turns carrying him over toward 
the lake, but as they soon wearied of this. 
Hale foraged a wheelbarrow, which saved 


THE MOCK TRIAL 


93 


them the labor of carrying this weight. 
They wheeled the boy out of town without 
much comment; as all who saw them pass 
knew it was merely another college prank 
which would not end disastrously. 

They did not stop until they reached a 
quiet spot in the woods more than a mile 
north of the college buildings. Here, set 
back some little distance from the lake, they 
were not apt to be disturbed. They felt so 
sure of this they built a rousing bonfire, for 
they were beginning to become somewhat 
chilled in the night air. 

‘‘Now for the business of the evening, gen- 
tlemen,’’ said Henderson solemnly, as he 
looked about the smiling circle of faces. “It 
seems to me. Stark should be elected judge 
because he is the only legal ‘stude’ among 
us.” 

“For myself, I’m content to serve on the 
jury,” commented Ned, as he arranged his 
skirts and sat down on a log. “This is a 
prominent enough part for any suffragette 
to play.” 

“Henderson should represent the class 
officially as prosecuting attorney, I think,” 


94 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


remarked Larry as the various sophomores 
stated their preferences as jurymen or wit- 
nesses. 

‘^No, I retire in favor of Alf. He is more 
of an orator than I am and can get away 
with it better. Also just to get even, I recom- 
mend Larry be appointed by the court at- 
torney for the defense.’’ 

Larry groaned. 

“I can’t even make a good blu:ff at it,” he 
remarked, depreciatingly. Nevertheless, the 
court approved the appointment and he ac- 
cepted the office, rather than see the sport 
delayed. 

Two of the number were singled out as 
deputies to guard the prisoner, while the 
bailitf sonorously opened court in true legal 
fashion. 

‘^This case is that of The People versus 
Lionel Forrest, is it not?” drawled Stark, 
pretending to consult a docket. 

‘‘It is, your honor,” returned Alf. “You 
will find it listed on the left-hand sheet, as 
number 1323.” 

“Upon what charge is the prisoner being 
tried?” 



All who saw them pass knew it was merely another college 

PRANK.— Pa^e U 3 . 


f - 

I A •• 


. •* ... '■* I J-V 


j ■ 


* ♦♦ 


* ...•' 

4 

4 


i » 


< 


• ^ 


• A* A A • 
Y\ \ > ’• 4 ^ 







• f 

) . n 


K ■ 


I 

I k 


I • J 


.-• t 



V 


t/ • ' I ” 




J 


} • 




..v 


. i 



I • ^ 

- I * < 


\. 


»' % 


I* 


1 4 


s J 


J* ^ 

•:\t 


i I 








|i 


r ♦ 


\ W 




' V 


s 


.- 4 { y jv 


.•<' I 


[i •■^' 


'. I .• 


. 'l * * 

'I 


• ' •» 


f I 

'••V* 


'"r ■ 


I . 


> .' 


r t 


0 ‘ 

‘A 7’'' •■%’.; . 

' ■. • » ■. ■ , 


# . 


# ^ 

# • 


4 

• . 


<• • 


f > 


t- 


1 


• . » 


»• .* 


t ' 




H 

: <v 


. I • • 





w « 
i 


- V <■ - .■ 


¥, 


^ % 



f 


* 


* ' t 


- t 




» m 



*/ 


• .« 


’> . 

' . 


I 


.1 

r . 




*: 

I ♦ 

< ^ 


I ^ 
I • 


.•k ‘-y^ 


* y 


- 




r ^ 

• /# 


• 'r* 'r\^s ^ ^ •f- .' • ■ 

••■ ’/t ' * ■ ' ■ i_ 


1“ 
4 * 

H 








1- 


t# 


t 

';r 


''■ i 


» / -y 




^ y I 





• y 






‘ f 




4 1 


rr 

* • f 


V 








» « 4 

I 

I 


-i I'y 




S 


I 

W’.' 






. • \ ** 


iy 


.'V » “ 


s . ' %i- 

.* / i 4k f ^ . A mTd 


*f> TP 

'A . g • r / 



THE MOCK TRIAL 


95 


The prosecuting attorney pretended to 
consult several affidavits, then replied: 

‘‘Your honor, he is charged with being an 
institutional menace, a disgrace to the col- 
lege, and an evergreen freshman who is a 
burden to his friends.’’ 

Forrest attempted to rise angrily, then sub- 
sided silently with a shame-faced air. 

“Proceed,” ordered the court. “The 
bailiffi will call the first witness.” 

One of the Delt sophomores was first 
called to the witness chair, a stump to the 
left of the judicial throne. In answer to the 
questions with which he was plied, he testi- 
fied that the freshman wore a rubber collar, 
used corsets, smoked five boxes of cigarettes 
daily, and had been known widely through- 
out the entire world as “Lovelorn Lionel, the 
Burly Bigamist.” 

The second witness was Bruin Bear, who 
lacked such a vivid imagination and there- 
fore contented himself mainly with enumera- 
ting the actual incidents which had aroused 
even the boy’s classmates. 

Witness after witness was called; many 
from the jury box, after Stark agreed to this 


96 


LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


illegal proceeding. All this time Forrest 
was getting red and more uncomfortable, 
seeming to realize just now for the first time 
how his conduct had appeared to his college- 
mates, even though it was all with the best 
intentions in the world. 

‘^This closes our evidence,’’ said Alf, as 
Johnny Morgan left the witness stand. 

‘‘Call the first witness for the defense.” 

“Your honor, we have no witness for the 
defense,” regretfully admitted Larry, who 
had now entered into the spirit of his work 
and was anxious to clear his client if pos- 
sible. 

“Does the State care to argue before giv- 
ing the case to the jury?” 

Alf and Larry conferred together. 

“I hate to go up against a debater like 
you,” said Larry, “but there hasn’t been 
even a word said so far in favor of the pris- 
oner.” 

“We shall argue the case, your honor,” an- 
nounced Alf, with untold gravity. 

The jury box buzzed with interest while 
he plunged into a brilliant summing-up of 
the evidence, most of it utterly preposterous. 


THE MOCE TEIAL 


97 


but some of which went home and caused the 
prisoner to drop his eyes uneasily, while he 
flushed with embarrassment. Alf sat down, 
leaving the impression that nothing could be 
said to justify Forrest’s freshman mis- 
takes. 

Then Larry got up. Perfect silence was 
accorded him. Even the prisoner glanced 
up with interest to hear what defense would 
be advanced. 

‘‘Your honor,” Larry began, “we are here 
to-night, not only to amuse ourselves, but to 
give our fellow student what we feel he de- 
serves. Let us not forget that our recital 
of his crimes has in itself been a heavy pun- 
ishment. 

“Witnesses have said he is arrogant, ego- 
tistical, altogether unreasonable in his at- 
tempt to overturn all the long-established 
traditions and standards of our college, just 
because his little Iowa high school was man- 
aged on a slightly different plan. They say 
he has conducted himself so that he has not 
won a single friend since he has dropped into 
Bed Oaks with his little mental deformity. 
Part of this, the defense will grant freely in 


98 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

the face of evidence too strong to be im- 
peached. 

''But after all, gentlemen of the jury, has 
not his greatest fault been merely that he has 
neglected to open his eyes and shut his head 
as a modest freshman should? Instead, he 
has made the mistake of opening his mouth 
and shutting his eyes. In any college com- 
munity that is a grievous crime. But re- 
member, crime is a comparative affair. 
One’s sin is proportionate with his oppor- 
tunity. Glance for a moment at the oppor- 
tunities this prisoner has had. 

"Let us look back a few years. We find in 
his little Iowa town — ^his home — ^his high 
school ; in one, his parents concentrating 
their hopes and ambitions in this son, in the 
other, his teachers cultivating him with but 
one idea — that of career. He is coddled in 
one haven, petted in the other, praised by 
other high school students who recognize in 
him their superior, and make him president 
of his class. In that environment he grows up. 

"He studies hard; he reads books you and 
I say we had not time to read; he thinks 
as we did not attempt to think. As a con- 


THE MOCK TRIAL 


99 


sequence, lie thrives intellectually, while 
other sides of his nature become stunted. 
It never occurs to him, for instance, that he 
should ever learn to be a good fellow, or be- 
come especially friendly with others of his 
age. 

‘‘Then comes the day when his parents 
gather at the railway station to see him leave 
for Rockwood, both of them wrapped up in 
the one idea of his making his mark at col- 
lege. They are proud and happy to send 
him here, no one knows at what a possible 
sacrifice. 

“Some of us were at the local station and 
saw him arrive, a stranger out of tune. He 
was intolerant from the first. He mis- 
trusted and misunderstood us. When we 
first spoke to him, he replied sharply, and we 
did not pause long enough to realize that was 
because he did not know how to meet well- 
intended advances. But you jurors, mind 
you, have been just as short-sighted. Re- 
member that if you are to pass judgment 
upon him. ’ ’ 

Larry had warmed up to his theme, all un- 
consciously stating much that actually was 


100 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


true. Now, in a flash, he realized the truth 
of his words, uttered lightly in mock de- 
fense. And at the same time his classmates 
began to realize that the spirit of their esca- 
pade had changed. 

With a new enthusiasm, the tall sopho- 
more plunged on earnestly, talking no longer 
as the one appointed under protest to assist 
in making the joke a rare hazing prank, but 
as a friend to a younger college mate who 
needed a friend. He dropped the little note 
of insincerity in his defense thus far, and 
spoke on more quietly. 

Fellows,’^ he said simply, ‘‘we have been 
’way wrong. We have carried our joke en- 
tirely too far and it is up to us to make 
things right. Since. I started out to do my 
share in horsing Forrest with my fool talk, 
I’ve just realized how peanut-brained I have 
been in this. Boys, here is the hardest- 
working fellow in school in the U to-day, but 
we have not only overlooked his good quali- 
ties, but we have let ourselves get peeved by 
his lack of good-fellowship, the one quality 
he is short on. 

“Put yourselves in his place for a minute. 


THE MOCK TRIAL 


101 


All of us have a prize lot of humiliating and 
painful memories of mistakes we made as 
freshmen, just a few months ago. Now, let’s 
forget Forrest is one class below us here in 
college, and remember the fact we have spent 
an evening putting him on the rack for our 
amusement. We owe him something in re- 
turn for that. I believe we owe him our 
friendship, every one of us.” 

Larry saw a growing sympathy in the 
faces of Henderson, Corwin, Hale, Starr, and 
others who comprised the mock jury. When 
he glanced across to the other side of the 
flickering bonfire, he saw that the Pi Sig 
sophomores were with him to a man. Then 
he looked toward the place where the fresh- 
man was held prisoner. 

‘‘Look at Forrest!” he cried. 

All eyes turned to the thin-chested student, 
who had dropped his face into his hands, 
while his shoulders shook with emotion. A 
great lump came up in Larry’s throat. He 
walked quickly across the circle and laid a 
hand on the freshman’s shoulder. 

“Boys,” he whispered, “nobody would 
kick a fellow when he’s down.” 


102 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


As he stood there a moment, Ned walked 
over to his side. 

Brace up, old man,’’ he said sympathetic- 
ally, ^^we’re with you to the last ditch. 
Let’s shake on it.” 

It was something no young man faces more 
than once or twice ; but when Forrest lifted 
his face, swayed to his feet and gripped first 
Larry’s hand and then Ned’s, the crowd 
rose to the occasion. There was no trace of 
an un-American demonstration, but every 
one in the throng showed his heart was in the 
right place, even if he did not wear it on his 
sleeve. They went home silently, each 
pledging himself to secrecy without saying a 
word on the subject. 


CHAPTEE VI 

HAZING AS A FINE ART 

Eventually Larry, Ned, and Lionel For- 
rest became unusually firm friends. With- 
out knowing the real circumstances behind 
the change of front, the entire sophomore 
class sensed the new attitude of many of 
their classmates toward the freshman and 
gave him a fair chance to work out his own 
salvation. 

From the night of the mock trial the boy 
was transformed. He came out of his shell 
in a new way to meet any advances from his 
own classmates or from any of the older 
students. He made a quiet try for his class 
basketball team, and picked up the nick- 
name Spider’’ even before he won his class 
numeral. He became generally accepted as 
a human being instead of a mere mathemat- 
ical prodigy, although he was none the less 
unobtrusively interested in his studies. 

Hecht, the young German professor soon 
103 


104 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


became bis fast friend; and after Larry 
came to know Hecbt better, the three quickly 
formulated plans for a college union, such 
as Hecbt bad seen tbe advantage of in bis 
own alma mater, a general meeting-point for 
all tbe classes and all tbe cliques in college. 
But that was only planned in these autumn 
days when Larry was so busy with football 
practice. It was not worked out until win- 
ter. 

This was tbe season of hazing when it was 
not impossible to find hapless freshmen be- 
decked in pink tights doing a balancing act 
with a long pole on tbe porch rail of one 
of tbe fraternity bouses. Hazing in its mild- 
est form began with tbe yearling’s removal 
of bis green postage stamp of a cap in simu- 
lated reverence to bis lord and master — tbe 
sophomore, and went on through various de- 
grees, until it reached duckings in Lake 
Crystal. But tbe most enjoyable hazing of 
tbe year was far removed from tbe campus, 
and tbe victim was not a freshman, but an 
outsider. It all happened in this way. 

In the little town of Jonesville, in the 
northern part of tbe state, a crowd of young 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


105 


farmers had banded together to form a team 
which had defeated the other elevens in that 
locality so easily that the few remaining 
athletic clnbs of the surroundings refused to 
play according to schedules made at the be- 
ginning of the season. The enterprising 
manager of the district champions soon be- 
came ambitious enough to write to the Eock- 
wood manager asking a post-season game 
with the ’Varsity. 

Hoping to let the Jonesville team down as 
easily as possible, the student manager re- 
plied that the ’Varsity could not consider 
such a contest as it would break training 
after the Hilton game, but he felt sure it 
might he possible for a game to be arranged 
sometime with the law school freshmen, or 
some of the class teams. 

The next Friday morning there came a let- 
ter with the Jonesville postmark enclosing 
transportation for fourteen players and an 
official, and a glowing account of the ar- 
rangements and advertising of the game 
with the law school freshmen for the follow- 
ing day. 

A busy half-hour at the telephone con- 


106 LAERY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


vinced the Rockwood manager that none of 
the class teams would take up the proposi- 
tion, and on the way to a ten o^clock recita- 
tion he dolefully unburdened his troubles to 
Stubby whom he met crossing the campus. 

‘^Transportation already here and no 
team to take up the challenge,” mused the fat 
senior. “I can see glorious possibilities in 
that. They would be satisfied with almost 
any kind of a team, I suppose?” 

“Worse the team, the better they’d like 
it,” returned the manager. “All they want 
is a chance to trim a few college rah-rahs 
who never even practiced signals together.” 

“Give me the transportation. I’ll take up 
a team myself.” 

“Why you never played a game in your 
life, did you?” objected his classmate. 

“Never. But it’s never too late to learn; 
and think of the sport ! ’ ’ 

At the end of the recitation, Stubby met 
Ned, and without preface, informed him 
calmly he was to be end on the law school 
freshman team playing at Jonesville the next 
afternoon. 

Ned gasped and protested; but was soon 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


107 


won over and was drafted in as assistant 
manager to scout up other promising ma- 
terial. 

Larry, Joe, and Wallie, of course, were 
busy with a regular game; but Walt Nelson, 
Bruin Bear, the three Morgan brothers and 
Sam Gardiner, of the Pi Sigs and Hender- 
son, Hale, Corwin, and Starr all readily 
grinned and agreed to the lark. With a 
great deal of coaxing. Long Dan was per- 
suaded to postpone some other plans and fill 
out the list of players, while Steve Mitchell 
finally realized the fun to be had on such a 
trip and volunteered to go as referee. 

After wiring an acceptance. Stubby called 
a first and last practice where rudimentary 
signals were made up and the positions as- 
signed. Long Dan, Henderson, Sam, and 
Ned had played either on scrub teams or 
class elevens and these were relied upon to 
do the heavy work. Stubby decided to be 
center, and filled the others in haphazardly, 
leaving two substitutes to relieve the first 
pair winded. 

With suit-cases filled with borrowed uni- 
forms the fifteen jesters caught an eleven 


108 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


o^clock train Saturday morning, and pre- 
pared for a care-free little vacation. 

Every one was on the outlook for fun and 
was not long in getting it. Seated beside 
Sam was a garishly dressed cheap sport 
from a neighboring village, who became con- 
fidential without any provocation. Soon he 
ventured the question: 

^‘Fraternity man, ain’t you?” 

“Member of the Tutti Frutti Alpha 
Omega,” replied Sammy, just as seriously 
as if there were such a thing. 

“That’s the very one I always wanted to 
join,” came the eager response. “I’d pay 
a big roll right this hour if I could join. 
Say, couldn’t you fix it up for me ? I ’ve got a 
bunch of money for an initiation fee if you 
could.” 

“Keep the money,” replied Sam, with a 
deprecatory wave of the hand. “Mere 
money could never buy its way into the 
noble, ancient order of the Tutti Frutti 
Alpha Omega. You’d have to take a stiff 
initiation, though.” 

“I wouldn’t feel I was a member unless I 
went through that, ’ ’ replied the candidate. 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


109 


‘‘Well, we have a quorum on the train and 
I’ll see what I can do for you,” announced 
the fun-loving junior, and beckoning the 
crowd into the smoking car ahead he ex- 
plained his diabolical plans. 

All the boys howled with glee at the pros- 
pect of a fake initiation, and fell to at once 
concocting bogus signs, grips, passwords, 
and stunts. 

Sammy was delegated to bring the pros- 
pective “brother” into the presence of his 
tormentors, where he was blindfolded, and 
made to answer a series of technical ques- 
tions in regard to his name, his birthplace, 
the color of his grandparents’ hair, the size 
of his feet, his education, and the soundness 
of his health. The conductor and three 
other passengers in the smoking car were all 
members of fraternal orders, and doubled 
up with silent laughter at the mock interro- 
gation. 

“I want you to state your name again,” 
demanded Stubby. “This is a serious thing 
and we must have no mistake. Brother 
Secretary here has entered your name as 
Johnny Wise. Is that correct?” 


110 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


''Yes, I’m Wise, all right.” 

"Well, it is a little difficult for me to be- 
lieve you are 'wise,’ ” smiled Stubby, adding 
under his breath: "Say, wouldn’t you think 
he’d be ready to sell himself two for a nickel? 
You’d think he should catch hay-fever from 
the hayseed in his hair, all right. ’ ’ 

"Aw — ^you’re trying to guy me, I almost 
believe,” ventured the patient candidate. 
"Let me tell you, I’m not the sort to bite on 
any tricks.” 

"What; don’t you trust us?” asked 
Sammy, as if horribly shocked at the sacri- 
lege. 

"Aw, sure, I do,” responded the reassured 
victim. "I’m too bright, anyway, for any- 
body to pull the wool over my eyes.” 

The merry crew staggered up against the 
seats for support, weak with suppressed 
laughter. None could hold in any longer 
after Johnny Wise obediently staged a gro- 
tesque dance according to the commands of 
a middle-aged business man in the car, who 
seemed to be renewing his memories of half- 
forgotten college days. The conductor also 
entered into the spirit of the occasion and 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


111 


hunted out a funnel, and drew a glass of 
water when the familiar funnel trick was 
mentioned. 

The funnel was placed inside his belt, and 
the blindfold removed from his eyes. He 
was then instructed a crucial test awaited 
him before he could be accepted into full 
membership. He must balance a penny on 
his forehead, and by a sudden ducking of 
the head pitch the penny into the funnel on 
the first trial. 

^HTl sure do my darnedest,’^ promised the 
neophyte. 

He planted his feet firmly in the aisle of 
the swaying car, strained far back and care- 
fully balanced the coin on his forehead. 
But just as he was making his final prepara- 
tions, with his eyes rolled back toward the 
roof, the conductor emptied the glass of icy 
water into the funnel. With a howl of sur- 
prise the candidate leaped into the air, his 
only regret being that he missed on his at- 
tempt to drop the penny into the proper 
place in accordance with the provisions of 
the test. 

‘‘And his name is Wise, too,’’ remarked 


112 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Henderson, in an undertone. ‘‘Wouldn’t 
you think he’d better get ‘wise’ some time to 
the fact we are making a goat of him?” 

“Well, even at that,” responded Chang 
Morgan, “you never can say but that he may 
be clipping coupons for a living some day 
when we are trying to borrow half enough 
to invest in a postage stamp. When a real 
rube like that does wake up, he never fails 
to make a success.” 

“We have now come to the time when it is 
my privilege to acquaint you with the signs 
of your organization; then the impressive 
ceremony will end with a speech by the new 
member, ’ ’ ordained Stubby. ‘ ‘ So far he has 
done much to satisfy us he is worthy to up- 
hold the noble banner of Tutti Frutti Alpha 
Omega, and I am sure I may congratulate 
him for all when I say that. I shall now ac- 
quaint you with the grips and signals of this 
order. ’ ’ 

Without a suspicion of a smile, the victim 
was shown a number of comical attitudes 
and motions by which he should be expected 
to be recognized as different from the com- 
mon herd of humanity. He followed the fat 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


113 


senior with such rapt attention, it was hard 
for any of the hoys to keep a straight face. 
Then to top it all, he mounted a seat and 
made a speech in which he termed his tor- 
mentors, ^‘brothers.’’ 

A storm of applause greeted this, which 
attracted the attention of many people in the 
next coach ; some of whom moved np in time 
to hear the hoys give their Tutti Frutti 
Alpha Omega yell: 

‘‘Of all sad words of tongue or pen, 

The saddest are these, ‘I’m stung again.’ 

Rah ! Rah ! Rah ! Get Wise ! ’ ’ 

With that the ceremony broke np ; hut even 
with this, the new member did not awake to 
the fact that he had been hoaxed. When he 
left the train at the next station, he insisted 
on giving his newly-acquired grip to every 
one of the rogues in a way that made them 
somewhat ashamed of the advantage they 
had taken of his gullibility. 

For some time the hoys chuckled over the 
comical incidents of the fake initiation as 
they recalled them with some of the older 
men in the smoker. Then gradually the con- 


114 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


versation drifted around to a discussion of 
politics, very mucli alive at this time on ac- 
count of the efforts Governor Lennox was 
making to be re-elected. 

‘‘The Governor's special is following our 
train through this district to-day,’’ volun- 
teered the conductor. “You have probably 
noticed the crowds gathered at the last two 
stations even this early, although he isn’t 
due this far up the line for more than an 
hour yet. You see the nearest he has ever 
been to any of these towns was at Browns- 
hurg four years ago, and lots of these peo- 
ple have never seen him at all.” 

“Scarcely recognize him if they saw him 
walk down the street,” remarked Corwin ab- 
sent-mindedly. 

“Then, say fellows — I have a huge idea,” 
burst in Ned with a sudden inspiration. 
“What’s the matter with our passing off 
somebody here as Governor Lennox? It 
would he an immense lark.” 

“If we only had Pete Holton hack with us 
this year or somebody like that who could 
appear older, it would be all right,” replied 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


115 


Dan. ^‘Bnt yon see tlie Governor is almost 
twice as old as any of ns and looks tlie part.” 

yon want some one to look tmly ven- 
erable, ITl volnnteer,” offered Stnbby. 

‘‘Another like that and weTl mob yon,” 
conntered Ned. “No; I refnse to let my 
idea be langhed to scorn, when we might get 
a better bnnch of langhs ont of it. Of conrse, 
I wonldn’t try to get away with snch a stnnt 
in any good-sized place, bnt we might snc- 
ceed in a little town.” 

“Ten minntes more will bring yon to Way- 
cross,” grinned the condnctor. “I donbt if 
there were ever more than a half-dozen peo- 
ple there who were ever np to the Capitol; 
and we have only a two-minnte stop there so 
they won’t have time to stop the demonstra- 
tion. ’ ’ 

“Let’s give it a try, fellows,” langhed 
Henderson; “if we nse enongh system and 
all pretend to respect and honor the ring- 
leader, it’s snre to go for a little while.” 

“All right,” agreed Brnin. “Bnt who 
will be the goat!” 

“What is the matter with Steve!” pro- 


116 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


posed Walt. has a ready line of talk, 

and can assume the voice. If he only had 
his make-up kit, it would be great. ’ ^ 

^^Say there is some man back here two 
coaches, who has a plug hat, that would help 
to give class to the event, suggested Hale. 

see if I can’t talk him out of it for a 
few minutes.” 

Others got busy rehearsing plans, and 
when the engine slowed to a stop in Way- 
cross, the entire crowd was on the back plat- 
form ready for the joke of the season. They 
caught the attention of the station loafers 
immediately, and a crowd began to gather as 
soon as Stubby led three cheers for the Gov- 
ernor. 

Steve Mitchell bowed diplomatically from 
the rear platform, and removed his hat in 
acknowledgment, and practically every one 
was taken in by the strategic move. A scat- 
tering cheer came from the crowd, which 
Stubby improved upon by leading a third in 
which every one joined heartily. 

Steve cultivated a slightly bored look, as 
if he were wearied with the plaudits of this 
political campaign ; then plunged into a fiery 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


117 


speech on the general order of one from the 
Governor which he had seen printed a week 
before. 

‘‘I thank yon, fellow citizens,” he cried in 
a deep tone that delighted the Pi Sigs. 
‘‘Yonr cheers are appreciated indeed in a 
campaign like this where so mnch has been 
done to malign my reputation. Vote as yon 
cheer on election day and I conld ask no 
more. Loyalty to the principles for which 
I stand is the first obligation of good citizen- 
ship. It is patriotism devoted to the rule of 
the people, of love of their ideals, pride in 
their aspirations and achievements, recog- 
nition of the equality of right. 

^‘You will not let my opponent hoodwink 
you by that misconstruction of patriotism 
in the name of which he prophesies still 
greater prosperity. You know how truly he 
would serve the interests of those now doing 
their best to elect him rather than the people 
whose servant the public office-holder should 
he. Let me merely suggest to you the way 
in which he is attempting to gain the gov- 
ernorship of this great commonwealth and 
ask you if they are not means no ends can 


118 LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


justify. The first concern of any party 
propagandist should be to protect its instru- 
mentalities from perversion. As an over- 
cunning legislator and leader in our last law- 
making body, did he convince you of his 
sincerity r’ 

Stubby led a cheer, to give the speaker a 
chance to collect his wits. 

Steve mopped his heated brow in great 
style, while Starr suggested in an undertone, 
^^Tell ’em about the false reformer, Steve.” 

This was one of President Builton’s hob- 
bies, and had served as the theme for many 
a chapel address. Steve nodded his grati- 
tude for the new inspiration, and stilled the 
applause. 

^‘He calls himself a reformer,” he cried, 
^‘but what is there in this administration 
which needs such immediate reformation? 
Ah, he is the false reformer, who raises a hue 
and cry to cover up his own action. His is 
the weakness of other alleged reformers who 
merely complain and attack, instead of pro- 
posing some practical, some constructive 
remedy.” 

‘^That’s right. Governor,” interrupted a 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


119 


voice in the crowd, and Steve was surprised 
to find it did not come from any of his crowd 
but from the station agent at the place. He 
paused in bewilderment, then plunged on: 

‘‘Why is thisT’ he asked rhetorically. 
“It is because my opponent is a mere poli- 
tician, and the mere politician does nothing 
but attack. He never thinks out construct- 
ive remedies. They are not students of con- 
structive reform. Remember this at the 
polls. 

“All aboard!’’ cried the conductor, 
“Sorry, Governor, but we have to go on.” 

“That’s all right, my friend,” granted 
Steve, magnanimously. Turning to the 
crowd, he proceeded: “I would like to take 
up with you the subject of my labor record, 
had time permitted. As you know the best 
interests of labor lie close to my heart. It 
is a joy to work for the laboring man, a joy 
which has kept me youthful as the day when 
I left college. I leave it to you to judge for 
yourself how lightly the passing years have 
dealt with me. ’ ’ 

The conductor swung up on the step. 
Those of the boys who had scattered through- 


120 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


out the crowd during the speech clambered 
to the platform. The engine coughed and 
the cars jerked and jolted. Steve leaned far 
out with a grandiloquent gesture. 

‘^Show me your friendship at the polls/’ 
he shouted. 

^‘We sure will, son,” returned a grey- 
haired man from the seat of a farm wagon. 

The throng laughed and then cheered 
again, as the wheels revolved more rapidly. 
Steve bowed and bowed, as the car clicked 
merrily over the rails, and his friends went 
inside to relieve themselves of the accumu- 
lated load of laughter. 

believe with Barnum, the great Amer- 
ican public wants to be buncoed,” Steve an- 
nounced with conviction as the little station 
of Waycross blurred into a mere lump on the 
horizon. ‘‘Here, Hale, you may return this 
hat now, if you will.” 

At' Jonesville, the boys were received with 
a warmth that made them realize how impor- 
tant the clash of the local team with the 
“Rockwood law school freshmen” was in the 
eyes of the surrounding district. 

While Steve walked around town with the 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


121 


other official umpire, Stubby and bis crowd 
were ushered into the town ball, which was 
made to serve as a locker room in the ab- 
sence of a regular training quarter or gym- 
nasium. Their opponents were already 
dressed in their half of the auditorium and 
Stubby had many misgivings when he looked 
at the sturdy young farmers and town 
boys. 

‘‘Without even a signal practice this way, 
I guess we are due to be licked all right, 
laughed Long Dan, as he followed Stubby ^s 
gaze across the big room. 

“I can take it good-naturedly,’’ responded 
the fat junior, “so long as they don’t injure 
my appetite.” 

Followed by a string of admiring small 
boys, they trotted out to the pasture at the 
edge of the town, where goal-posts had been 
erected, and ticket takers stationed at a gap 
in the fence. With wild excitement oijl the 
part of the local girls, and yells of, “Go it, 
Jonesville!” from the grey-haired post- 
master, the game started with a kick-off to 
Sam Gardiner. 

Sammy returned the ball to the middle of 


122 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the field, and Long Dan, at full, followed with 
a long run on the first scrimmage. Before 
the home team could recover, Henderson and 
Johnny Morgan at halves, and Ned at end 
all skirted the ends widely for excellent gains. 
Then Sammy got loose on the thirty yard 
line and dodged through the broken field for 
a touchdown. Henderson kicked goal amid 
an unpopular silence. The spectators had 
come to see the collegians trimmed and did 
not enjoy any reversal of form. 

The local stars, however, came back 
strong and were never headed; going over 
the line shortly before the end of the first 
quarter. A number of the boys were badly 
winded, but good defensive work by Dan, 
Walt, Henderson, Hale, and Ned staved otf 
a second touchdown until the middle of the 
third period. 

In the last quarter even they gave way for 
another touchdown, and the triumphant 
Jonesville eleven walked off the field with the 
big end of a sixteen to six score, after hav- 
ing kicked the third goal in spite of two 
previous failures. 

Being victorious, all Jonesville was good- 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


123 


humored, and the large-hearted manager im- 
mediately prepared for a hig feed at the one 
hotel, with a dance in the town hall to top 
the evening entertainment. The banquet 
tickled Stubby, Bruin, and others whose ap- 
petites were heightened by their unusual ex- 
ertions, and the society event appealed to the 
rest of the boys. When they left on a mid- 
night train they voted Stubby ^s trip a great 
success. 

The fourteen sophomores got back to Eed 
Oaks thoroughly wearied ; however, they 
dropped in at O’Brien’s restaurant for pie 
and ‘‘hot dogs,” at Stubby’s insistent urging, 
before thinking of sleep. 

They had just finished and were on the 
point of leaving when a group of freshmen 
looked in at the door, recognized their sworn 
enemies, and hastily withdrew. 

“Something funny is up,” declared Ned, 
“and we’ll find out what it is.” 

Long Dan and the other upperclassmen 
took no interest in the affair but all the 
sophomores followed Ned and Henderson in 
their pursuit of the yearlings. One whom 
they recognized as Spangler, threw away a 


124 LAERY BUEKE, SOPHOMORE 


pail half-filled with paint as they were 
seized. 

^‘What have you children been daubing 
with thatr’ demanded Henderson, nodding 
toward the overturned pail staining the grass 
the shade of iSfue that the incoming class had 
selected to represent it. 

‘‘Something none of you would have the 
nerve to paint/’ returned Spangler, “the 
highest thing in town. ’ ’ 

“The west stand-pipe!” hazarded Bruin 
who lived in town. 

A triumphant smile showed he was right. 

“And you won’t scrape it off, either,” 
volunteered one of the other freshmen. 
“We pried off the top of the iron ladder.” 

“You are partly right, freshie, we won’t 
scrape it off,” Walt Nelson put in quietly. 
“We won’t scrape it off because you are 
going to do it for us. Come along back with 
us and see.” 

None of the freshmen made any trouble. 
In the first place they would have been over- 
powered and carried along, anyway, and in 
the second all were curious to see what the 
second year men intended to do about it 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


125 


wlieii they saw the huge 1914 numerals 
painted across the top of the big stand-pipe, 
capable of being read from the campus when 
it was daylight again. 

Arriving at the pipe beside the water 
works, Bruin called out the engineer, who 
knew him by sight, and explained what had 
been done. 

‘‘It^s malicious trespass, at the least,’’ put 
in Corwin, solemnly; ‘^and we thought you 
would rather prosecute him than to leave it 
in our hands, with the honor of the college as 
our sole interest.” 

The red-haired Irishman scratched his chin 
and looked perplexed. Then he scratched his 
head, and decided he should grow angry. 

Shore, an’ ut’s trespass, sor ; an’ Oi thank 
ye fur catchin’ the scalawags. Now ye 
byes’ll scrape off all o’ ut or I’ll call Mike 
ter run ye in.” 

“But we can’t get up that high again, 
there’s something happened to the ladder,” 
protested Spangler, to whom the prospect 
of a cold iron cell in the city lock-up did 
not make a winning appeal. 

“If ye broke ut, ye can fix ut, and maybe 


126 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


ye’ll remember nt next toime when ye snake 
in an’ Oi don’t see ye,” was. the philosophical 
comment. ‘^Oi’ll give ye the tools, now, and 
ye can get busy.” 

While the freshmen worked like beavers, 
the sophomores sat on a bank of grass treas- 
uring np descriptions to relate later. They 
got only a few hours of sleep before break- 
fast, but enough sport with the victims to 
make it seem worth while to stay until the 
job was finished in the grey hours of the 
dawn. 

But the freshmen had been busier than 
their tormentors thought, for on the way 
home Bruin found a cow, daubed with the 
same blue paint, hitched in front of the First 
Methodist church, where crowds would soon 
be passing. At the risk of being thought the 
perpetrator of the joke. Bruin untied the rope 
and chased the incongruous-looking beast out 
of town to the barn lot which it had occupied 
earlier in the evening. 

These pranks started a new era of rivalry 
between the lower classes, in which the entire 
college and town became interested, as each 
tried to outdo the other. Two nights later, 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


127 


several sophomores took the bell out of the 
belfry, lowered it by ropes to the ground, car- 
ried it up College Avenue and balanced it 
across two limbs in a tree opposite President 
Builton’s home, strung wire from the clapper 
in and out through the next block and rang it 
for half an hour before the constable could 
solve the mystery of the automatic ringing. 

This stunt and a few others of like diffi- 
culty set a high mark for the newcomers. 
At first they contented themselves with in- 
fantile undertakings like daubing the sign, 
^^Budweiser and Pilsener, Our Specialty,’’ 
across the German professor’s fence; but 
these things soon began to pall on the mis- 
chief-makers themselves. 

Although Spangler had not wielded a paint 
brush since he was first caught, the college 
blamed him for most of this, and he was gen- 
erally dubbed, Painter Spangler,” when the 
instructors were not within hearing. To live 
down the odium of this nickname, he planned 
a new episode. 

The last thing done by Henderson and his 
confederates was to hang an old baby-car- 
riage, labeled, “For 1914” in the old oak at 


128 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the campus gate. For the last two nights the 
sophomores had confined their efforts to try- 
ing to catch the freshmen at work, and had 
not attempted any stunts in return. 

‘‘TheyVe stepped out of the ring.’’ 

‘‘They’ve thrown up the sponge.” 

Such comments were heard from a number 
of the younger ringleaders. The last one 
suggested a stunt to Spangler. In the bio- 
logical laboratory was a huge sponge from 
the Florida reefs, which had been sent in 
by an ardent alumnus for instruction, and 
the freshman knew it would not be impossible 
to smuggle this out late in the afternoon. 

His intention then was to climb up through 
the trap door on the top of College Hall, and 
hang this half way down the side of the build- 
ing with a big placard: “You see ’13 has 
thrown up the sponge.” It was rather far- 
fetched, but a number of his crowd liked the 
idea and offered to accompany him on the ex- 
pedition. 

Happy Reynolds and Ollie Winn, the only 
ones of the Pi Sigs approached on the sub- 
ject, volunteered to get the sponge for their 
share of the deal. This they had no particu- 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


129 


lar difficulty in doing, after the janitor left 
late in the afternoon. They hid it in the 
shadow behind the hall steps and went home 
late to dinner, for which otfense they were 
made to atone by extra hazing after the 
meal. A quiet telephone message made the 
location known to Spangler, so he and his Chi 
Beta clique found it easily about midnight 
when they stealthily entered College Hall 
through an unlocked basement window. 

They listened intently as they tiptoed down 
the silent corridor, but except for the ticking 
of the hall clock and the snapping of the 
cooling radiators, they heard only their own 
muffled footfalls. Up the stairs they climbed, 
then found their way to the proper closet 
and mounted a ladder leading to the roof. 
They did not know old McKay, superintend- 
ent of the grounds, was even more quietly 
following them, trying to guess their identity. 

When they climbed out into the cool night 
air Spangler got another inspiration. It was 
too easy for the placard to be cut loose, if 
hung near the trap door, he argued, and he 
clambered up astride the ridge and led the 
way toward the other end. 


130 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


The entire crowd followed his example, and 
lowered him down the slippery slope with 
a short rope so that he could tie the swing- 
ing sponge and inscription to the guttering 
where it would be hardest to cut it loose. 
This done, they pulled him up again, and all 
started to work their way back, satisfied that 
they had the laugh on the rest of the college. 

^ ‘ Gude marnin \ gents ! ’ ’ came the quiet hail 
of McKay. 

Scarcely were they half way to the trap 
door when old Mac^s head and shoulders rose 
above the aperture, his long arms swung the 
hinged door over into place above his head, 
and then he calmly dropped out of sight as 
he battened the hatch to keep out the storm. 

The freshmen were transfixed by the sud- 
den appearance, but when they heard the 
bolts grate and slide securely into place, they 
awoke to a realization of what faced them. 

‘^Wait a minute, we want to talk to you, 
Mac,’’ called one. 

^‘Open it up and I’ll give you a five,” cried 
Spangler. 

There was no reply. 

‘ ‘ Make it ten !” he cried. ‘ ‘ We ’ll make up 


HAZING AS A PINE ART 


131 


twenty-five between us, won’t we, fellows? 
Open up, Mac, and we ’ll square it with you. ’ ’ 

But, repaid for a week’s nightly vigil, 
McKay stamped his way down the stairs and 
gave no heed to proffered bribes, wheedling 
tones, or expletives from the six on the sharp, 
cold ridgepole. He made his way home to 
get a sound sleep before inspecting his catch 
by daylight. 

There was no sleep for the disconsolate 
sextette on the roof. Such an acute angle 
was far from restful. When it became un- 
bearable to straddle it longer, one of the boys 
hooked his elbows over the edge, and lay flat 
against the frost-covered slate on the other 
side, until partly recuperated. They in- 
vented even more awkward and dangerous 
positions before the first pink light on the 
horizon foretold the sunlight that would re- 
veal their ignominy to all the campus. 

The milkman on the route making the fra- 
ternity houses first discovered and recognized 
them, and laughed so hard at their plight that 
he attracted several early servants for spec- 
tators. Then a girl in a boarding house of 
conservatory students across the avenue, dis- 


132 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


covered the angry freshmen, trying to appear 
■unconcerned and dignified under her gaze, 
and she aroused the boarding house by her 
shrieks of mirth. 

Heads out, everybody,’’ became a gen- 
eral cry along the fringe of the campus. 

Opera glasses were searched out, and some 
of the seniors gravely carried rocking chairs 
out to the sidewalk so that they could enjoy 
the spectacle at their ease. 

Others overran the grounds to ‘‘horse” the 
performers from points of vantage, or to lis- 
ten to the minute explanations of Mac, never 
tired of repeating how he had caught the 
freshmen red-handed. Mac was cheered as 
the hero of the hour. In response to the 
hand clapping and repeated calls for a speech 
he mounted the stone steps and began: 

“Gents — ” 

“Hurrah!” 

“As I was sayin’, gents — ” 

‘ ‘ Chee-he I Chee-ha I Chee-ha, ha, ha ! Mac ! 
Mac! Mac!” 

The crowd was in a spirit to enjoy any- 
thing now, and plentifully interspersed the 
old Scotchman’s talk with yells; although re- 


HAZING^ AS A FINE AKT 


133 


fusing to let him stop until he told how nat- 
ural the freshmen looked, almost as if they 
had human intelligence, in spite of the fact 
that they had risked their precious young 
necks to make some one laugh the next morn- 
ing. 

His action was not so much a mean re- 
venge, Mac argued, but simply a chance to 
teach all the hare-brained students a lesson, 
and he had been glad to take advantage of 
a golden opportunity. The incessant cheer- 
ing that greeted every word brought Presi- 
dent Builton post-haste from his grape-fruit 
and oatmeal to see what unforeseen event had 
happened. Even he lost his dignity and 
chuckled heartily at the woebegone coun- 
tenances that stared down from the roof on 
the merry scene below. 

Bring them down to me, Mr. McKay,’’ he 
stated as soon as he could recover his dig- 
nity. ‘ ‘ I shall be waiting in my office. Have 
them bring down the things they hung from 
the roofing.” 

Spangler and the other shame-faced fresh- 
men trooped into the President’s office with- 
out spirit, expecting to he suspended for 


134 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


weeks, if not expelled for their prank. But 
President Builton merely looked them over 
and said, quietly: 

^‘You may go, boys. If you tahe this back 
door you can avoid most of the crowd. And 
I must ask that this do for this year.’’ 

At chapel he spoke briefly on the subject, 
saying the freshmen had carried out their last 
escapade for the season, and he wished the 
sophomores to show the same consideration. 

While I realize it has all been done in a 
spirit of fun,” he closed, think all will 
agree it is going too far when life is endan- 
gered to climb over a slippery slate roof for 
so little. Besides, it is beginning to mean 
the destruction of property in a way which re- 
flects upon the name of the college. For in- 
stance, a few nights ago, some students, pre- 
sumably sophomores, hung a placarded baby 
carriage in one of the campus oaks. It was 
battered and damaged to such an extent that 
it seemed to be but little more than the car- 
riage and wheels, and one might easily think 
it was worth nothing. The next day, how- 
ever, a very poor washerwoman in the south 
end of town claimed the wreck. She ex- 


HAZING AS A FINE ART 


135 


plained that she used it in delivering the heav- 
ier baskets of clothing she washed, as she 
was too weak to lift mnch after her day’s 
work. You see, no one meant any harm in 
borrowing that battered relic. It was only 
an act of thoughtlessness ; but some one suf- 
fered by it. I think we can consider the inci- 
dent closed now, and let the hazing drop.” 

When the president reached his office a 
little later, he was met there by Ned Cross 
and Henderson. Ned smoothed out a num- 
ber of bills and laid them with a handful of 
silver on the President’s desk. 

‘H’m sorry about that baby carriage,” he 
explained with some embarassment. 
helped to take it, and all the fellows with me 
feel it’s only right to let that old woman 
replace it with a new one if she likes.” 

‘^And I just wanted to promise there will 
he no more such doings this fall on the part of 
the sophomores,” Henderson added. 


CHAPTER VII 


^‘oiling the machine’’ 

Football was now the big consideration in 
the eyes of every Rockwood student. One 
after another the smaller colleges had met de- 
feat, although none by large scores. As the 
season advanced, Whiting was defeated by 
three touchdowns, Ripley by two, and Ken- 
wood by a touchdown and one goal from field 
which Captain Leonard had kicked after two 
unsuccessful attempts earlier in the game. 

All of the games were comparatively close, 
but scarcely as hard fought as the score seems 
to indicate, as Gordon had coached Leonard 
and Pierce to keep the score down after the 
game was once laid away safely, strength- 
ening the ’Varsity by hurling its otfense 
against the strongest defense of the oppo- 
nents, rather than by assaulting its weak- 
nesses. 

Hilton was adopting the other method and 
had piled up three or four times the score 
136 


‘‘OILING THE MACHINE’^ 


137 


against these same teams. This caused the 
word to go the rounds that Hilton had much 
the stronger team, judging by comparative 
scores. 

The Green, this year, did have a veteran 
team which was unusually powerful, its 
rangy full-back and captain, Weeds, being 
picked as the best man in his position in the 
west this season. Maroney, left tackle, was 
also a tower of strength, and Weeds never 
failed to gain when he smashed outside of his 
position. 

Early in the season the college had adopted 
for its slogan “Hang it on Hilton,’’ and the 
Eockwood eleven was working tooth and nail 
to uphold the victory of the last season, if pos- 
sible. As the weeks wore on, however, the 
coach gave the teams its second war cry, 
“Watch Weeds.” Sometimes in practice 
some second string man would be coached in 
Weed’s tricky plays, including a choice va- 
riety of fake punts and freak forward passes, 
and by concrete example the team was shown 
how to foil every clever ruse as it was de- 
tected. 

But before Hilton should be met, Eeynolds 


138 LAREY BUEKE, SOPHOMORE 


must be played. For the first time in years, 
Reynolds had a team to figure in the sectional 
championship. The eleven was not espe- 
cially well coached in the new open game, but 
had two fast light backs who were able to 
do something with open style of play, while 
the heaviest line of any team in the middle 
west made ‘‘straight’^ football a safe prop- 
osition. 

Reynolds had arranged no game match with 
Hilton, but had ground all the other teams 
except Rockwood to crushing defeats. Every 
effort, therefore, was bent toward prepar- 
ing the team for this game, to be held on the 
home grounds of the college. 

In some way several unsavory stories had 
made the rounds in regard to the Reynolds 
team, on which it was charged two ^‘ringers’’ 
were playing in return for easy scholarships ; 
but Gordon ignored these rumors and refused 
to protest the accused players. 

The Rockwood team was well balanced all 
around. Henley, one of last year’s substi- 
tutes had been selected for the right end posi- 
tion to fill the vacancy caused by the gradua- 


“OILING THE MACHINE” 


139 


tion of Don Stillman, and this filled all the 
line, with Garner on the other end, Edwards 
and Larry at tackles, Joe Stanley and Her- 
bert at guards, and “Plugger^’ Brown at 
center. 

Pierce at quarter, and Captain Leonard 
and Ward at halves filled three responsible 
positions in the back field. Leonard was far 
from being the magnetic leader that last 
year’s captain had been, but played to his 
utmost, himself, and at the same time dis- 
played good generalship except on rare oc- 
casions. 

The one place on the team the coaches were 
at a loss to fill was full-back. Williams, full- 
back on the scrubs for two years was not 
really of ’Varsity calibre, although he did his 
best to come up to the requirements. He had 
played the position in the first games, but it 
was apparent the coaches were not altogether 
satisfied. 

Jacobson, the freshman, was tried on the 
’Varsity occasionally, but was found a trifle 
slow. He was shifted from guard to center, 
then out to tackle on the scrubs, where he 


140 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


was pitted against Edwards to gain a train- 
ing for the day when he might be needed to 
take that veteran’s place. 

At one time it was proposed to pull Ed- 
wards back into the position of full, but the 
head coach decided on later consideration not 
to shift the senior from the post where he had 
labored for four years. And then Larry was 
selected tentatively for full. 

No one on the team was training harder, 
or was in better shape than Larry. He arose 
at six every day, while Ned still slumbered 
peacefully, and swung out for a mile trot with 
Wallie Rogers, both wearing heavy sweaters 
that brought a feeling of comfort as they 
drew the snappy morning air deeply into their 
lungs. 

Wallie had been distinguishing himself as 
quarter on the scrub team, and was counted 
first sub for Pierce. He got more speed out 
of his second team than Pierce did from the 
’Varsity. While buried under a struggling 
mass of players who were disentangling them- 
selves for the next scrimmage, the little fresh- 
man’s vibrant pipe of the signals for the next 
play could be heard, lashing the reserves on to 


^‘OILING THE MACHINE 


141 


speed which sometimes swept the ’Varsity 
over many a lime-chalked line before it 
braced and held. 

There were days when the Indian summer 
lingered with them, with its stifling odor of 
burning leaves, and all the candidates worked 
joyfully in the lazy afternoons. There were 
days when cold drizzles fell upon the turfed 
gridiron, and this was saved from the cleated 
shoes while the first and second string men 
pounded each other behind the east stands on 
a field that was trampled into a wallow before 
Dick Gordon called a halt on the scrimmage. 

Now with the Eeynolds game approach- 
ing, the weather abruptly changed. On a 
few days icy blasts whipped otf the lake 
and numbed the hands of the gridiron war- 
riors exposed to it on the field. Once a bleak 
snow descended on the silent blanketed forms 
of the substitutes on the side-line benches, 
until they shivered with chattering teeth and 
rolled up their chilled fists inside the folds 
of their sweaters. But that cleared off again 
on the next day and the sunlight again glinted 
yellow from the high, arching punts Larry 
and Captain Leonard practised on the field. 


142 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

Fifty yards apart, two centers straddled 
their bulk and fed back the balls as steadily 
as machines, while the two kickers drove 
their cleated shoes into the leather spheroids, 
sending them booming down the field for 
fifty-five and sixty yards, to be sent whirl- 
ing back again. Larry, under the direction 
of a former gridiron hero, achieved a spiral 
punt with a peculiarly deceptive curve that 
made it hard to handle. 

While this was going on, the majority of 
the first and second string men, from whom 
all save the fittest had been weeded, fiercely 
assailed the tackling dummies, wrenching 
them from their rope and spring contrivances 
to be hurled back in a lift tackle. There 
were always plenty of coaches of former days 
to give advice as to how to pull down the 
sawdust figures, and the players seared by 
their caustic comments could do nothing ex- 
cept relieve their feelings by a more vicious 
tackle the next time it came their turn. 

Tackling over, the squad was put to work 
for a time on the charging machine, set to 
falling on the ball, catching punts on the run, 
given practice in dodging and in stiff-arming, 


‘‘OILING THE MACHINE” 


143 


or else evading the stiff-arm and bringing 
the dodger to earth. 

Tall, wide-shouldered and narrow-hipped, 
short, chunky, and deep-chested — all types 
were seen on that field. Some were built 
like barrels, others like fleet hounds. The 
little faults of all were scored alike, in voices 
that reached to the top of the east stand in 
which some of the ‘‘howling host’’ always 
gathered to see the team at work. 

“Keep your eye on the ball!” shrieked one 
captain of the early nineties. “That’s one 
of the five rules that has held good for twenty 
years, as we have told you often enough — 
keep your eye on the ball, run high, tackle 
low, watch the hips in tackling, and learn 
all your rules. Salt that away and you can’t 
go far wrong. ’ ’ 

“Oh, you bone-headed husky, don’t ever 
stoop to pick up a ball on the bounce, drop on 
it always. Do it like this, see?” 

The young attorney who dispensed this ad- 
vice, forgot he was in his street clothes, and, 
neatly dropping on the pigskin, rolled to his 
feet again and was off like a flash down the 
field. 


144 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


This point illustrated, he took ‘^Jovial 
Jake’’ under his care for five minutes, giv- 
ing an invaluable demonstration of tricks he 
had employed as tackle, striking the fresh- 
man’s chest with both stiff arms, unsteadying 
him so he could plunge through on one side ; 
then clutching one arm, he would spring aside 
and go darting through in the struggle to free 
the arm; feinting on one side he would go 
through on the other. He finished by put- 
ting his hands on the freshman’s neck as he 
crouched too low, and jerking him forward 
on his face for a clean opening. 

As he was about to continue the demon- 
stration, Gordon trilled his whistle for the 
afternoon scrimmage, and the candidates 
from all ends t)f the gridiron trooped to the 
center to be lined up or sent to the side- 
lines. 

‘‘Now, let’s have a snappy half-hour of it, 
hoys!” he called sharply. “Yes, Hanley, 
you take left end again ; Williams in at full. 
And see if you can get up a full head of 
steam to-day, Williams. All right. Signal. ’ ’ 

“D-one — A- three — L-seven — F-four — G- 
teu — ” 


“OILING THE MACHINE’’ 


145 


It was a straight buck by full-back. When 
Williams reached the line there was a hole 
opened for him ; but he hit lifelessly and was 
dragged to earth by the defensive full with 
but a meager gain. 

“Eotten! Eotten!’’ howled the head coach, 
and all the others took up the keen analyses 
of his many faults. 

There’s something the matter with your 
nerves, man!” Gordon shouted, and the rest 
gave him silence. ^^It’s not your nerve, I 
know, because you have done it, but lately 
you’ve taken to shying every time you 
shouldn’t. You must get used to the punish- 
ment. Here is a hard game coming with 
Eeynolds. Slam into that ; smash as fast as 
you can speed it. Don’t check or ease up 
that way. Bang into the line without flinch- 
ing. Try it again on the other side. ’ ’ 

Two of the younger assistant coaches in 
uniform slipped into the positions of defen- 
sive guard and tackle, and this time pounced 
upon the luckless full-back the instant he 
swung into the line. He limped back to his 
position disconsolately, silently, under the 
disapproval of the former stars. Then sud- 


146 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


denly the head coach lowered his voice to a 
sympathetic tone. 

^‘WhaUs the matter, Williams?’’ he asked 
quietly. ‘^Is it that old Charley-horse come 
back on you?” 

‘^Oh, I’ll be all right when I get warmed 
to the work,” was the grim response. 

Don’t think this is the best I can do. Can 
we try that again?” 

^^Here, wait a minute!” called the squad 
physician, who came upon the field at that 
time. ‘^Williams can’t work to-day. Over- 
strain and bruises in the thigh have brought 
that case to a bad stage. Absolute rest will 
be necessary for a week, anyway. I sent 
him out just to walk out a little of the stiff- 
ness. Come on, boy, hot applications and 
massage for you.” 

Gordon stood scratching his chin in per- 
plexity. 

‘ ^ All right, old man, clear out. I ’m sorry. ’ ’ 
He watched the crippled player depart, then 
turned with decisive orders. ‘‘Burke, you 
play full for the rest of the season. Jacob- 
son take Burke’s tackle. Pierce take Jake’s 
place. Signal. ’ ’ 


“OILING THE MACHINE” 


147 


Larry placed one foot behind the other, 
turned his knees in to start quickly, and was 
off like a flash at his signal, to smash through 
left guard. Chin in, neck stiffened, his back 
straight and his legs straining in the effort, he 
drove his weight through the opening made 
by Joe and Edwards, going through to the 
secondary line of defense for a six-yard gain. 

First with the ball and then in the inter- 
ference, he was given a thorough try-out in 
his new position, often censured sharply 
when he went wrong in details, but sometimes 
overhearing a word of commendation from 
the coaches that told him he was making 
good as full-back. 

The play at tackle was not so unlike the 
work of the back field as to leave him alto- 
gether in strange ground. To rest the backs, 
both Edwards and himself had been run fre- 
quently from position in the line, and at other 
times, he had been called into fast interfer- 
ence for end runs and trick plays. Almost 
any tackle has in him the possibility of de- 
veloping into an excellent full-back if he has 
but the speed as well as the weight. 

In a short time the responsibility of the 


148 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


position began to appeal to him, and he liked 
it. He began to nnderstand more clearly 
than ever before that he was a human bat- 
tering ram, to be depended upon in any cri- 
sis to take the ball on a third down and 
smash through for the necessary distance. 

He vowed he would make first down in these 
emergencies if it were possible. When no 
clean opening presented, he picked the near- 
est thing in the wavering, interlocked, and 
straining line, and launched himself with a 
determination that never failed to win two 
or three yards. 

Repeatedly the ’Varsity rushed the ball 
down the field only to have Gordon donate it 
to the scrubs and let them hammer futilely 
a little while and kick it back out of danger. 
It was impossible for the scrubs to gain 
through the line, but occasionally Wallie Rog- 
ers got away for a brilliant quarter-back 
run that brightened the coach’s eyes with 
joy. 

'Hf that kid weren’t such a breakable bit 
of glassware, I’d put him on the ’Varsity,” 
Gordon muttered to an aide; “then I could 


‘‘OILING THE MACHINE” 


149 


chuck Pierce out to Henley end or Ward’s 
half.” 

“He sure is great for speed,” was the 
reply. “Let’s see what he can do with the 
’Varsity.” 

Gordon nodded, then called out decisively : 

“Eogers, I want you to run the ’Varsity for 
ten minutes. Pierce you can rest Ward at 
half.” 

The regular quarter-hack went to the po- 
sition where he had often alternated in the 
days before his position on the ’Varsity was 
made sure as a sophomore. Wallie jogged 
to his new station with a merry smile, slap- 
ping a few of the line men on their bulky 
hacks and chatting to them to get them with 
him. 

“Now, boys, up on your toes for a bit, 
we ’re going to tear that line to ribbons. Line 
up the minute you can scramble out of the 
mess, and we’ll spill them over before they 
are ready. Signal I” 

On the first play he ran Joe from posi- 
tion. The gain was but small, and the 
thronging coaches on the alert for the most 


150 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

trivial flaw in the mechanism of their treas- 
ured machine took up the chorus : 

Watch the back step as you get ready to 
start. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ That glance of your eyes, guard, gave the 
play away. And, right end, an unfriendly 
umpire would have called you off-side. We 
canT afford to give away five yards.’’ 

^‘You scrub center, you be more careful 
about interfering with Brown’s passing the 
ball. Five yards for that, too.” 

But before half the comments of most were 
made, the ’Varsity was off on the second 
scrimmage, Leonard taking the ball three 
yards on a straight buck through the open- 
ing Jacobson made for him. 

Then on a fake tackle around plunge, com- 
bined with the old criss-cross play, Wallie 
skirted the left extremity, running low so as 
to delay the tacklers in locating him. Larry 
who was his sole interference, slung himself 
low and hard into the defensive half who 
attempted a side tackle, and Wallie went all 
the way to the second scrub quarter, who was 
playing far back for the punt he had ex- 
pected on this third down. 


“OILING THE MACHINE” 


151 


‘‘He’s a wonder!” exclaimed the old 1901 
captain. ‘ ‘ He gets away with that trick bet- 
ter than Pierce does.” 

“Yes, he does,” admitted the coach; “I’d 
give a lot if he weighed twenty pounds more. ’ ’ 

“Able to handle the forward pass, too,” 
exclaimed the first, after Captain Leonard 
had driven toward him a long spiral that he 
gathered in without a hobble. 

The head coach sighed. 

“Yes,” he admitted. “And he never 
misses punts, either. Knew enough to 
sponge down the front of his jersey so they 
stick. We didn’t have to tell him that, even. 
Then his grand virtue is broken-field running. 
But this year he’s too light. Where would he 
he when those Reynolds guards or tackles fell 
on him like a ton of coal?” 

Gordon broke otf his resume suddenly, to 
bellow : 

“Aw, smear him, Spence! Throw him 
back on that lift tackle. And Jake, you want 
to work with Garner there to block on that 
play. You both jam him back together. 
Here, you don’t deserve a touchdown yet, 
let the ball go over to the scrubs. Now, I 


152 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


want to see all this ’Varsity line sift through 
on the pnnts the second team will try.” 

<< There, that’s fine, Stanley!” he shouted 
enthusiastically, as Joe broke through on the 
first kick in time to deflect the ball with his 
hand. 

'‘That’s a nifty trick, but we’ll see if we 
can’t build up a niftier on the other side. 
You keep them worried there while Brown 
and Herbert wedge an opening that one of the 
back field can spring through without all that 
delay. Burke, you’re tallest, and your reach 
will be of advantage; you are to try that 
hereafter on punts. Try it again.” 

When the ball was passed, Larry sprinted 
forward and just as he reached the line 
Brown charged back the opposing center for 
a slight opening, through which the tall soph- 
omore raced and hurled himself into the air 
with outstretched arms. The pigskin thud- 
ded off one elbow. 

“Now, scrubs, how are you going to stop 
that?” 

The second team full moved over to spill 
Larry on his next attack, but this time Joe 
got through again. This was all their sue- 


‘^OILING THE MACHINE” 153 

cess, but the ’Varsity felt that if it could 
block even one kick in a close game, this might 
turn the battle to Eockwood’s favor. 

In another five minutes the practice scrim- 
mage ended and the players grouped around 
the coaches in the gathering dusk for final in- 
structions before being started on a last run 
around the field. The howling host of root- 
ers sang and joked in the early twilight as 
the students began to file down from the cool 
stands, thinking of hot dinners waiting at 
fraternity and boarding houses. 

Three ghost balls, Mac!” called Gordon, 
as he detained Leonard and Burke. A 
sturdy young graduate took the whitened 
spheroids from the old Scotch caretaker and 
brought them over. 

^^This is Scrappy McLean, boys,” rattled 
on Gordon. ‘^He hasn’t been back for four 
years but I’ll bank on his toe being as ac- 
curate as ever.” 

^ ^ The man who won the 1898 championship 
with the drop kick from the fifty-three-yard 
line?” queried the captain quickly, harking 
back to one of the old traditions of the trophy 


room. 


154 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


'‘Stow that/' protested the chunky little 
star. "I'd never have tried it from that dis- 
tance with the ball to the side, if I'd known 
how far it was. It was an accident; I was 
out of my head, anyway." 

"Mac's skull wasn't quite thick enough 
to stand a hard knock," laughed Gordon. 
"Sometimes he couldn't remember the sig- 
nals any more and would call out the code he 
used in his prep school. Finally the hoys 
learned both sets to be sure in an emer- 
gency." 

"I'd almost forgotten that, Dick," chuckled 
the former hero. "Then, do you remember 
how I'd go down to the house and take six or 
seven baths, unless the boys would stop me? 
I sure was some forgetful then. Had to get 
over it. Well, boys, let's get down to brass 
tacks while we can still see the posts." 

Starting at the twenty-yard line and di- 
rectly in front of the goal, both kickers sent 
the painted pig-skins sailing between the up- 
rights. Then five yards to the side and three 
yards back they duplicated the feat, moving 
back and over at a more acute angle until they 
reached the forty-yard line. Here both Larry 


“OILING THE MACHINE” 


155 


and Leonard failed twice to register. Mc- 
Lean took the next ball, dropped it true, and 
drove his shoe into it as it rose from the 
ground. It sailed squarely over the middle 
of the bar. 

You twist the seam a little, Leonard, when 
you drop it. Be careful not to drop it so 
it can twist any,” he advised. ^‘Try it 
again.” 

The captain tried two more and failed. 
Then Larry was given two more trials. 

‘‘You have the size and weight to give 
power to your kicks,” said the alumnus, 
slowly, “but youTl have to learn drop-kicking 
all over. Ever kick from placement?” 

“Yes, Wallie Eogers knows how I want the 
ball and usually holds it. We have prac- 
tised a great deal at odd moments. ’ ’ 

“Here, ITl hold it for you,” offered his 
critic. 

The first attempt went true. The next 
three followed suit, and even on a sharper 
angle nearer the side-line, Larry succeeded in 
scoring two out of four trials. Leonard 
kicked only one out of five. 

Then the increased darkness put an end to 


156 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the practice and they raced to the training 
quarters, bursting into the confusion always 
pervading the place at this time. 

Old McKay was hanging up sweat-soaked 
jerseys to dry before the stove, while telling 
his quaint stories of heroes long forgotten 
by every one else. The negro rubbers slapped 
and kneaded the bruised bodies that came to 
them pink from the tingling showers. Joe 
and Edwards had engaged in a friendly 
rough-house and stood clinched and straining 
like a statue of Greek wrestlers. Every- 
where was heard the gridiron slang and 
choice repartee indigenous to this liniment- 
odored atmosphere. 

Larry slipped out of his football togs, and 
into a warm shower, then after a dip into 
the cool plunge, headed for the scales to weigh 
in before the trainer and be inspected by 
the squad physician for more serious bruises 
and strains. As he passed the door of the 
locker-room he heard McLean say : 

‘‘Use that soph for the kicking. He has 
more than an even break in it.’’ 

The coach’s reply came faintly to Larry’s 
ears as he moved on rapidly. 


“OILING THE MACHINE” 


157 


‘‘Leonard wants to do the punting and 
drop-kicking himself. Unless Burke has the 
edge on him in forty ways, I wouldn’t like 
to peeve the captain,” 


CHAPTER VIII 

PREPAKING FOR HILTON 

It was in the Reynolds game, on Saturday, 
that Larry had his first real opportunity to 
prove what he could do as full-back. The 
game was fought out on the home grounds of 
the heavy eleven, where continued rains for 
three days made the gridiron a wallow on 
which the lighter, faster Rockwood team was 
at a distinct disadvantage. 

That the Reynolds rooters did not fail to 
recognize this advantage was all too appar- 
ent. It was directly charged by a few Rock- 
wood sympathizers in the city, that some Rey- 
nold’s students had deliberately flooded the 
field from two hydrants near the field, so as 
to make the footing of the fleet Crimson and 
Grey backs insecure. On this field, the 
skinned baseball diamond made a great clay 
mire where the floundering players trusted 
to weight more than to speed. 

The clouds had cleared away in the morn- 
158 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


159 


ing, but toward noon the sky was again dark- 
ened, and a steady drizzle set in shortly be- 
fore the game was called. The game could 
not be delayed owing to the early hour at 
which darkness would overtake them, and a 
postponement was out of the question. 

The players were soaked almost as soon as 
they appeared on the field; and the, scattered 
spectators in the open stands were forced to 
hoist umbrellas or turn up the collars of their 
rain coats. Owing to the long trip, only the 
most confirmed football rooters from Red 
Oaks had made the trip, among Larry’s 
friends being Long Dan, Billy Morgan, Ollie 
Winn, and Happy Reynolds. Ned and Bruin 
had remained at home to play on the sopho- 
more team which the juniors, captained by 
Sammy Gardiner, was then defeating for the 
inter-class championship. 

But a meager burst of cheering greeted 
the Rockwood team as it ran through a brief 
signal practice, but after the game was 
started the few loyal rooters collected in 
one end of the stand and made up in enthu- 
siasm all that was lacking in volume. 

Through the misty haze of the shifting 


160 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


downpour, Larry glanced at the referee when 
he came to the line on which the Crimson and 
Grey eleven was strung out. His dark hair 
was stringy in the rain, and his soaked 
sweater hung upon his shoulders like a wet 
sack. He lifted his hand, but jerked it down 
as the cold water ran up his arm. 

Almost with the rolling trill of the whistle, 
the rain-soaked ball was boring its way into 
the storm, and the light line floundered after 
it down the muddy field. The half who re- 
ceived the kick-off slipped even in his start, 
and Captain Leonard sifted through the loose 
interference to nail him with a low tackle. 
Both were plastered with clay when they 
arose. 

Reynolds^ ball — ten to gain!’’ came the 
cry and the battle was on. 

The dull clouds sagged low above and shook 
out heavy sheets of rain, and an icy wind bit 
through the sodden, streaming jerseys as the 
Green and White eleven swept down the field, 
plugging the line with maddening monotony 
for four, five and six yards. With the ad- 
vantage of the strong wind, the ball was 
punted almost to the Rockwood goal line 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


161 


when the wearing attack was finally checked 
in mid-field. 

Pierce who was downed in the middle of 
a puddle in trying to return the kick, took out 
time for a wrenched shoulder, and Brown in 
his anxiety to hold the little quarter-back’s 
head out of the water neglected for the time 
to watch the ball. In an instant the wind 
snatched up the heavy leather, rolled it into 
a seven-inch deep pond across which it sailed 
serenely while players from both teams 
waded behind, squabbling about the place 
where it had been downed. 

This question settled by the referee, the 
Rockwood team grimly settled down to busi- 
ness and began to work the ball back toward 
the center of the field. End runs were not 
half so successful as under normal conditions 
and the line-bucking was relied upon almost 
altogether after a few trick plays had been 
tried in vain. 

Captain Leonard, Ward, and Larry punc- 
tured the line again and again but only for 
short gains, and it became apparent that Rey- 
nolds had them outplayed at this ponderous 
smashing game. The Crimson and Grey was 


162 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


effectually checked on its own thirty-yard 
line, and Leonard punted back into the teeth 
of the wind. 

A second time the Green and White re- 
peated its pile-driving tactics and rushed the 
ball to the forty-yard line this time before 
being halted by a fumble. Edwards luckily 
fell upon the ball, and Rockwood was able to 
kick out of danger before the whistle ended 
the first quarter of the game. 

The change of goals for the second period 
gave the visitors an advantage with the wind 
which was made the most of from the start. 
Leonard kicked the ball far into the territory 
of the home team and through the rest of the 
quarter resorted to defensive tactics. 

Several times the Green and White won 
its way to the fifty-yard line, to lose the ball 
on disheartening fumbles and have it kicked 
back sixty-five yards on the back of the fierce 
blast. 

So stiff and numb were the- hands of the 
backs that they were constantly fumbling. 
Trick passes were almost out of considera- 
tion. Flukes and clumsiness added a new 
element to the game With their demand 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


163 


for the most wide-awake attention. The half 
ended without scoring, and Rockwood was 
glad to see it end that way. 

Gordon and the other Rockwood alumni 
on the side-lines had a had quarter-hour in 
the next period, when the hall see-sawed back 
and forth almost altogether in Rockwood ter- 
ritory. Fired by the head coach’s talk be- 
tween the halves, the Crimson and Grey 
eleven time and again started with determi- 
nation on the road for a touchdown, hut inva- 
riably stopped in the mud like a wagon too 
deeply mired, before the middle of the field 
could be crossed. 

In the line, Plugger Brown, Edwards, and 
Joe were fighting like mad, while Captain 
Leonard and Larry bucked with all the force 
they could call to their command; but their 
grim battle was more than counterbalanced 
by the stolid resistance of their heavy oppo- 
nents. 

The linemen stamped their cleats into the 
best footing procurable in the stiffening ooze 
and the two interlocked lines clashed fiercely 
beneath the pelting storm until both teams 
were completely winded. The whistle that 


164 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


ended the third period was welcomed by the 
lighter team. During the brief respite, Leon- 
ard fell panting on the sodded turf, and rolled 
over on his back to expose his face to the beat- 
ing of the wind and rain. 

^‘Boys, we have to score, he said with 
conviction, then heeding the orders of the 
trainer he raised his wearied frame from the 
ground and prepared for the onslaught. The 
rest of the team nodded with a silent deter- 
mination. 

As in the second period, the Crimson and 
Grey again had the advantage of the wind; 
but this time was not content to take the de- 
fensive. A triple exchange of punts was 
forced, in the course of which Reynolds lost 
heavily. Then assaults on the line were re- 
newed by Larry, Ward, and the captain. 
On the thirty yard line directly in front of 
the goal posts, Leonard tried a drop-kick, but 
missed by a matter of inches. 

On the kick-out, Rockwood regained the 
pig-skin in the center of the field. Pierce, 
who returned the ball fifteen yards through 
a broken field was knocked out in the tackle, 
and Wallie Rogers was substituted in his 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


165 


place. The new quarter’s first move was to 
call a forward pass. Larry wrapped his 
long fingers about the oval and shot the ball 
to Garner, who managed to retain it in his 
cold hands, although tackled hard. 

On a quarter-back run the speedy fresh- 
man succeeded in keeping his feet long 
enough to gain ten yards, and conditions be- 
gan to brighten until suddenly Leonard 
learned of the time-keeper that only two 
minutes of play remained. Two skin-tackle 
plays on the same side of the line worked 
the ball over toward the middle of the thirty- 
five yard line, and the captain attempted his 
second drop-kick. This time the ball went 
true, being booted squarely between the posts 
and high over the bar, an example of the 
erratic kicking of Leonard, who had just 
missed a much easier goal from the field. 

Before a half-dozen plays were executed, 
after the last kick-off the game was stopped 
by the expiration of time. 

Tired as they were, the Rockwood players 
capered off the field, while the envious Rey- 
nolds’ eleven moodily shambled after them. 
In the locker-room allotted to the visitors. 


166 LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


they were rubbed down and lectured at the 
same time. 

‘‘What’s the matter, boys I” demanded 
Gordon, at the end of his talk. “Have you 
gone stale “F I know some big allowances 
must he made for the condition of the field; 
but even at that the game was more against 
you than I could have thought possible. 
You’ll all have to take a big brace next 
Saturday, if you intend to ‘hang it on 
Hilton, ’ as every man in college is asking of 
you. ’ ’ 

“Heard the Hilton-Ripley score this after- 
noon, coach?” called Leonard, as he climbed 
down gingerly from the rubbing board. 

“Not yet, but there is a telephone in the 
next room and I’ll find out from one of the 
papers. What’s your dope on it?” 

“Well, we beat Ripley by two touchdowns, 
and I wouldn’t grant Hilton any better luck, 
unless Weeds is able to slide in a goal or 
two from field.” 

“Then you have another guess coming,” 
came Gordon’s comment. “You boys want 
to make up your mind right now, Hilton has 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


167 


the best team she has ever put in the field; 
and that’s more than you can say for this 
team. ’ ’ 

He turned abruptly and sought out the 
telephone. A buzz of comment came from 
all parts of the room, expressing the belief 
that the head coach was unnecessarily 
severe. Edwards silenced it with one sen- 
tence. 

^‘Look here, boys, I’ve been up against 
three championship scraps with Hilton and 
I’ve followed the dope closely, and I can tell 
you all those games will look like tiddledy- 
winks beside our game next Saturday.” 

Gordon was back with the score. His 
face looked unusually serious. 

^‘Thirty-one to nothing,” he said. 
“Weeds made five drop-kicks and failed to 
kick goal after only one of the three touch- 
downs. Just write this down again where 
you won’t forget it: ‘Watch Weeds!’ ” 

That slogan became pretty generally the 
battle cry of the Crimson and Grey rooters 
who were now awakened to the full danger. 
In addition to a uniformly powerful line, and 


168 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

more than average half-backs, the Green this 
year was conceded to have the best full-back 
in the country. Last season he had been the 
universal choice on the All-State and All- 
Western teams, and this year, his third in his 
position on the ’Varsity and his second as 
Hilton captain, he was twice as dangerous as 
before. 

His towering height and his weight lent 
power to his accurate drop-kicks so that he 
was often able to drive the ball across the 
bar from the fifty-yard line, while this same 
strength made him able to plug the line suc- 
cessfully without the aid of his teammates, 
which few full-backs could do, especially 
under the new rules. 

Ned insisted that Weeds reminded him of 
some big moose, such as Larry and he had 
seen during their Labrador trip that sum- 
mer. In reality, he was scarcely more grace- 
ful, and he charged like one into the oppo- 
sition. In the Tenth Century, Weeds would 
have held his own among any of the vikings 
of that period. In the Middle Ages, he 
would have made an excellent robber baron. 
In this Twentieth Century he made a top- 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


169 


notch All-American football hero, with 
vitality and ambition enough to succeed in 
almost any line in or out of college. 

This last week was employed in perfect- 
ing a special defense to stop Weeds. The 
secondary line of defense was practised 
steadily on lightning shifts to stop any point 
of the line threatened and all the tricks the 
gigantic full-back had worked that season 
were guarded against. 

The gridiron captains of past days trooped 
back in numbers and all imparted more or 
less valuable ideas to Gordon, showing just 
how the problems could be met. Don Still- 
man, who had led the last yearns eleven to 
victory, made the Pi Sig house his head- 
quarters for the week while he devoted his 
postponed vacation to coaching his old team- 
mate Garner and the new end, Henley, who 
was holding down Don^s old position. 

Dad Russell could not get down until Fri- 
day, but he wired a suggestion which proved 
unusually valuable. This was to coach 
some second string man to employ as many 
of Weeds ’s tricks as were known, so that 
the ’Varsity could have the actual practice 


170 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

of solving them in the course of a hard scrim- 
mage. 

No scrub could be found who was quite 
satisfactory, but Scrappy McLean donned 
moleskins again and was pressed into serv- 
ice for the good of the cause. He was short 
in wind, but between brief rests put up his 
old-time fight and with Wallie^s aid inspired 
the scrubs to fight in a way which kept the 
’Varsity on its toes during the afternoon 
scrimmage. 

Especial coaching was given Larry in 
respect to line-bucking and kicking. By 
Wednesday he had become so fast on ofP- 
tackle smashes that Pierce could no longer 
reach him to slap the ball into the pit of his 
stomach, and a groin catch of the quarter’s 
short pass was resorted to. 

When the ghost balls were brought out in 
the dusk and scrimmage finally stopped on 
account of darkness, Larry still lingered 
with Captain Leonard for a few trials at 
goal from difficult angles of the field, with 
McLean pointing out the mistakes of both 
and the way to remedy the grosser errors. 
Gordon stayed with the trio Thursday to 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


171 


watch the last hard practice, and asked 
bluntly : 

^‘Mac, who had we better have kick, Sat- 
urday?’’ 

McLean looked at Larry, watching him 
drive his cleated shoe into the whitened ball, 
which soared between the goal posts. 

Burke is kicking pretty reliably,” he 
stated critically. Still, he hasn’t kicked 
before in a game where so much depended on 
the result.” 

^^Can you do as well in the game as you 
have in practice?” asked the head coach, 
watching him closely. 

^^Sure. I don’t think I would blow up 
then. Coach.” 

‘^No, I don’t think you would either; still, 
as Mac says, you are not as experienced as 
Leonard.” 

^ ‘ Coach, this is my last game, ’ ’ said Leon- 
ard, ^‘and since Irving graduated, I’ve been 
promising myself I would do the kicking. 
Of course, I wouldn’t think of anything I 
didn’t believe to be for the best interests of 
the team.” 

‘‘You’ll kick, boy,” Gordon said quietly. 


172 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Jog up a sweat now, and let Jack give you 
a good rub-down.’’ 

Light work was decreed on Friday, as the 
trainer refused to run the risk of any in- 
juries, and wished the players to store up 
energy for the morrow. But half an hour 
was put in running through the signals, with 
the grads of Umphty-six and Naughty-nine 
lending a last hand to the oiling of the 
smooth machine. Up in the bleachers the 
‘‘Howling Host” cheered approvingly, then 
settled down to sing the virtues of every 
member of the team, beginning with: 

‘‘Well, here’s to Cap Leonard, 

Cap Leonard, Cap Leonard; 

Well, here’s to Cap Leonard, 

God bless him, heigh-ho — ” 

Larry grinned foolishly when it came his 
turn, and even the phlegmatic Joe admitted 
it made him feel more than ever like ripping 
the Hilton line to pieces, when the college 
demanded that sort of thing. 

The afternoon was chilly enough to make 
the students kick their feet against the seats 
in the stands to keep up a circulation, but 
they loyally remained as long as a player 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


173 


was on the field. Gordon soon pnt an end 
to the practice with his sharp command : 

^^One more forward pass here to left end, 
and we ’re done. ’ ’ 

Garner dashed ont to the extreme left, 
while the ball floated back to Larry on a 
fake pnnt formation. The taU sophomore 
wrapped his long fingers about it, and 
whipped the hall to the waiting end, as ac- 
curately as if it were a baseball he was throw- 
ing. 

‘‘There. That’s a fine one to stop on!” 
cried the coach enthusiastically. “Go that 
gait to-morrow and we have Hilton licked to 
a finish.” 

The team hastened to the gymnasium, 
packed up dry clothes for the little trip to 
Brownsburg on the other end of Lake Crys- 
tal, and hastened away to eat before the big 
mass meeting at seven-thirty. 

Even though the game was staged on Hil- 
ton’s grounds instead of at Red Oaks, the 
night before the conflict served as in past 
years as the occasion for a general home- 
coming of the alumni. All the old grads 
seemed to be back, some mildly hazing the 


174 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


freshmen at the fraternity houses, others 
swapping stories around O’Brien’s lunch 
counter as in the old days when they dropped 
in there for a cut of pie. 

All piled out into the street and headed 
for the gymnasium when they heard ^‘Old 
Mac” the caretaker of the campus, beating 
his old drum, as he had done for so many 
years that it became an accepted tradition of 
the college. 

McKay had the reputation of being the 
youngest drummer boy in the Mexican War, 
and was the only veteran of that conflict sur- 
viving in this part of the State. Often he 
recounted tales of his former experiences, 
until his eyes flashed with the recollections, 
but only on one occasion was the roll and 
throb of his drum coaxed with war-time 
ardor. This annual event never failed to 
mean a gathering of the clans. 

Undergraduates poured into the gym- 
nasium, bubbling over with excitement; old 
grads and members of the faculty came arm 
in arm. They sang the old songs, prac- 
tised the old yells, listened to and partici- 
pated in the speech making, — all of which 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


175 


was crisp and to the point. Alumni, profess- 
ors, the coach, and the captain were called 
to a temporary platform. Then every first- 
string player was made to mount the eleva- 
tion to say a few words, according to his 
oratorical ability. 

Earnest enthusiasts responded with full- 
throated volume to the gyrations of the yell- 
leaders until the roof threw back its hearty 
echo. Then after the last ’Varsity man had 
incoherently pledged himself to fight to the 
last ditch, and silence came for a minute, the 
student band crashed out the ’Varsity song. 
Every man in the hall stood at attention with 
flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes as he 
joined in the singing. After that the crowd 
filed silently from the big gymnasium, the 
older men scattering to renew old friend- 
ships, while the students undertook their 
serpentine dance down the avenue, in which 
practically all except the players joined. 

The members of the ’Varsity were under 
orders from the trainer to seek their beds 
before nine o’clock, and little as they felt 
like sleeping, they obediently tried to get all 
the rest possible. 


176 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Joe Stanley, Wallie Rogers, Ned, and 
Larry walked back to tlie chapter house to- 
gether, their heads busy with thoughts of the 
game. Larry paused an instant on the 
porch steps to look up at the diamond points 
of the stars twinkling crisply in the cold 
sky. 

^‘What kind of a day shall we draw for 
to-morrow? Is that it Larry?’’ called Ned, 
reading what was in his roommate’s mind. 

‘^You’ve called the turn, bunkie,” Larry 
replied. ‘^It will be an awfully hard field 
unless straw is laid out to keep the frost out 
of the ground.” 

‘^Oh, they’ll do that, I guess,” commented 
Wallie. ‘‘On second thought, I don’t know 
about that, either; Don says they didn’t two 
years ago.” 

“Well, it will be as hard for them to fall 
on as it will be for us,” was Joe’s axiom. 
“For myself, I’m about to hit the hay and 
lose my cares in dreams of victory.” 

“That’s what’s worrying me, Joe,” replied 
Larry. “I’m afraid we are too confident 
about winning, just because we did last 
year.” 


PEEPARING FOR HILTON 


177 


The more he thought of this after he went 
to bed the more Larry was convinced that 
the game Hilton would put up would surprise 
most of the Rockwood supporters. Al- 
though not usually nervous, the tension of 
this coming battle would not let him rest, 
and he tossed uncomfortably until midnight. 
Then in a series of racking dreams, he played 
through the game a dozen times. He felt 
more wearied when he arose the next morn- 
ing than when he had turned in. 

Wallie, as a first-string substitute, had 
been ordered to rest with the ^Varsity men, 
and so he lounged about on the window seat 
with Joe and Larry after a light breakfast. 
Ned and Alf took turns at the piano and beat 
out their liveliest rag-time, but this trio 
could not take any interest in the score of 
the latest musical comedies. For the first 
time. Stubby’s cleverest stories almost 
palled on them. ‘^Hilton” and ‘‘Weeds” 
were dragged into every other sentence that 
morning. 

Johnny Morgan soon returned from an 
eight o’clock recitation, and took in the sit- 
uation with a glance. 


178 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

Looks rather disconsolate around here,’’ 
he observed. ^‘Why the pre-game grouches? 
Wake up, you people. Let the court jester 
beguile the weary hours. Where’s a meek 
and lowly freshman to serve as buffoon?” 

An examination disclosed only Silent 
Dave, boning on his Greek. 

^‘Davy, my boy, don’t worry about Greek 
until Monday. We want to see how good 
an athlete you are. Get a basin of water 
and a pair of toothpicks and display a little 
oarsmanship. ’ ’ 

The studious freshman smiled wanly, and 
without any particular emotion did as he was 
ordered. Johnny sat down on the floor be- 
fore him. 

‘‘I’m coxswain of this shell,” he said, 
“and I want you to set a good stroke for all 
the rest of the crew. Hit her up now at 39 
to the minute.” 

Before the by-play was exhausted, Charley 
Morgan strolled in, and was made to climb 
over the furniture and play gorilla. After 
that he was taught a few nonsense rhymes; 
and not excused until without a mistake he 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


179 


could recite this verse eight times in a 
minute : 

fly and a flea in a flue, 

Were imprisoned, so what could they do? 
Said the flea to the fly let us fly : 

Said the fly to the flea let us flee ; 

So they flew through a flaw in the flue/’ 

When the freshman had become proficient 
to this extent, he was made one of the elect, 
and allowed to enjoy the rest of the pro- 
gram as a spectator. Only the fact that 
Wallie was under orders of the trainer saved 
him from sharing the indignities thrust upon 
the other freshmen. One by one as they re- 
turned to the house they were made to per- 
form, the amateur circus really working to 
advantage, as it took the minds of Joe and 
Larry otf the strain of their coming game. 

After a while, Paul Eaymond was seen to 
pass the house with a music-school blonde, 
and after he had accompanied her to her 
boarding house and returned, the entire com- 
pany undertook to ‘^get a rise’’ out of him. 

‘‘Third case this season, isn’t it?” asked 
Ned, pointedly. 


180 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Think she is as pretty as the last one?’’ 
Joe queried. 

A dozen foolish queries were fired at ‘Hhe 
official fusser,” but he waved them aside dep- 
recatingly until Sam Gardiner who roomed 
with him, mildly observed: 

^‘Say, frau; I understand she is an author- 
ity on the game of football.” 

‘‘That’s her one weakness, Sammy,” sadly 
returned the fusser. “You know I took her 
to the Ripley game, and tried to teach her 
just a little of the rudiments of the game — 
oh, just the least idea, and that all in words 
of one syllable for the edification of the 
feeble-minded. I thought she grabbed that 
much, she seemed so grateful for the infor- 
mation, and promised by the time Kenwood 
played here she would study a rule book and 
surprise me.” 

“Did she?” 

“She did. Most emphatically, she did. 
Here was the line of talk that gushed out 
when she undertook to prove what a good 
instructor I had been : 

“ ‘Is that the interference when the man 
with the whistle makes them stop to get 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


181 


rested? Oh, look at that cute full-back on 
this end of their line! Now he’s carrying 
the touchdown for a fine gain, isn’t he? 
Don’t you wish we could run off another for- 
ward pass ? How many yards does the 
punter forfeit when thfe scrimmage the 
third time is a safety? That’s the only rule 
I wasn’t quite sure of.’ 

‘^And then the first time we fumbled and 
Kenwood fell on the hall she cheered like 
mad. Boys, she is a fine girl and I like her, 
but never again will I take her to a football 
game. There never was a girl who knew 
football.” 

There’s where you’re dead wrong, Paul,” 
broke in Larry. ‘^My sister knows the game 
from start to finish. I’ll leave it to Ned if 
she doesn’t. She’s coming all the way down 
to Brownshurg to-day with Dad Russell to 
see the game.” 

‘^Larry’s right there,” confirmed Ned. 
‘^She knows more about the fine points of 
the game than I do; and I’ll have to admit 
it, even if I am a modest member of the 
almost-champions of the inter-class series.” 

The subject once more brought around to 


182 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


football, no one could discuss anything else 
until it was time for the boys to take an 
early traction car for the other end of the 
lake where the larger Hilton university was 
situated. 

Hundreds of townspeople mingled in the 
crowd of students who cheered the eleven at 
the traction station. The team, the coaches 
and others of the elect occupied a special car, 
which landed them at Brownsburg in time for 
a brief lunch at the principal hotel. 

When they came out on their way to the 
gymnasium they found the streets packed 
with people. Excursions from all the ad- 
jacent towns had brought thousands of spec- 
tators to see the Western championship as 
well as the supremacy of the State decided. 

As early as one o’clock the inclined plat- 
forms at the ends of the field, and all of the 
unreserved sections in the bleachers were 
black with the hundreds massed together, 
while even some of the reserved seats were 
filling with persons who wanted to see the 
try-out of soccer football which had been 
promised as the first preliminary contest. 

Snow was now falling, and the wind whis- 


PKEPARING FOR HILTON 


183 


tied coldly across the bleak campus, but 
these soccer proteges of the university Presi- 
dent appeared in nondescript attire that bad 
an open disregard for the weather. One 
player wore a track shirt and abbreviated 
running pants to allow freedom for the imi- 
tation be gave of what the association game 
would be. Ned, up in the west stands, said: 

‘^He looks like a chorus girl at a mid-win- 
ter ballet, dodging snowflakes to keep warm.’^ 

The eleven at the gymnasium tried to be- 
come interested in the sport, but could not 
work up enthusiasm. 

<< There, somebody made a goal,’’ calmly 
stated Wallie; but every one discredited the 
rumor. 

The second preliminary, however, a close 
contest between two good preparatory 
schools, playing shortened periods, gen- 
erated more enthusiasm. By the time the 
first half of the curtain-raiser had ended, the 
air was lively with the howls of the preps, 
and others who became partisans for the 
time being, to enjoy the sport more. 

While the second half of the scoreless pre- 
liminary was being played, the Rockwood 


184 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


team was preparing for the big fray of the 
season. The reek of liniments was in the 
air. The slap and pounding of the last rub- 
downs before the game resounded in the 
dressing quarters. The terse, low-spoken 
admonitions of the trainer and the head 
coach keyed them to the highest tension. 

“Test your shoe-strings, boys,’’ came one 
warning, “no man can afford to snap a lace 
to-day. ’ ’ 

Gordon silently paced up and down between 
the lockers for several minutes, while the last 
tightening of the belts and tying of shoe- 
strings was finished, and the nose-guards and 
leathern helmets were distributed among the 
players. 

“Double brace that left ankle, Leonard,” 
he cried, then lapsed again into silence. 
Finally he turned to face them all. 

“You’ve got to do it, boys,” he exclaimed 
abruptly, and the words crackled as he bit 
them off nervously. “It’s up to you, now, 
the result has got beyond our hands. We’ve 
done our best to build up your machine, and 
you have smoothness, dash, and power. 
But they have all that, too, and you must 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


185 


out-play them individually to win. Slough 
’em from the whistle. Jump into it before 
they wake up, or they’ll turn the trick on 
you. You linemen, don’t let it worry you 
when you see their arms swinging in their 
defense. Keep them guessing, yourselves, 
on how you’ll tear their line to pieces.” 

He went into detailed directions to the line- 
men, and Larry drifted over to peer through 
a window out upon the field. 

The afternoon was sober and grey. Fly- 
ing snow robbed the scene of some of the 
sparkle and flash of the usual football crowd. 
The light feathery flakes drifted into the am- 
phitheater and veiled the throng with their 
misty zig-zagging. The mad whirl of pen- 
nants as the bands marched around the grid- 
iron could scarcely be made out. Larry for- 
got the present for the moment and went 
back to the time when he first read the words 
emblazoned across the wall of the familiar 
rubbing-room of his Alma Mater ; 

^^For RocTiwood I WilU^ 

He spoke the words over softly under his 
breath, then turned again to listen to the 
parting injunction of the coach : 


186 LARKY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


you go into this game with your minds 
made up to win, youVe got the other team 
licked already. Get the big desire of it into 
your hearts. They canT beat you! You 
have them beaten when you run out on the 
field. ’ ’ 

The prolonged roar from the west side 
told them the green-jerseyed players had 
made their appearance. Gordon stepped to 
the door, and shouted: 

‘^Go out to them, my boys. They Ye 
strong, but you Ye a lot scrappier.’^ 

Larry, the last to leave, was the only one 
to hear him say to the squad physician: 

^^I’m down-hearted to-day. Doc. Barring 
accidents, we Ye licked off the turf.’’ 

Larry’s head was in a whirl. He could 
scarcely believe he had heard aright. The 
coach must be mistaken. Did not every 
student in his college place implicit faith in 
the victory of his fellows'? Surely the Crim- 
son and Grey could not be humbled to-day. 

But he had no time to stop to think out 
the question. Like mettlesome colts escap- 
ing to frolic in some pasture, the eleven and 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


187 


the first string snbs streamed from the door 
the coach held open, dashed upon the field 
at the heels of their captain, and wheeled 
into line for a last signal practice. 

Tier after tier of spectators swayed to at- 
tention, with a prolonged roar from the west 
bleachers, before which danced and ges- 
ticulated a whirling dervish of a yell-master. 
As the players hurled themselves through a 
few snappy plays, short, quick ^‘rah^s^’ rang 
out for the individual favorites : 

‘‘R-ah, rah, rah! 

Rah, rah, rah! 

Rah, rah, rah! 

Leonard! Leonard! Leonard!’’ 

The cheer was pounded out with sledge- 
hammer force. Then came the ’Varsity yell, 
after which the yell-master with rhythmic 
sweeps of his megaphone led the singing of 
the ’Varsity song, other yell-captains under 
him holding their sections in the stand in 
time to the music. 

That paean of victory could not fail to stir 
those chosen to battle for the Crimson and 
Grey, agile, sturdy, keyed-up as they were to 


188 LARKY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


throw their disciplined strength and willing 
effort into the scales tipping them to their 
favor. Just once, Larry glanced up into the 
mass which walled in this snowy arena ; then 
he forgot there was any witness to the con- 
flict. 

He noted, however, that the gridiron was 
frozen hard as flint, and that almost a gale 
swept the powdery snow from the north into 
the white-strewn pit. At the other end of 
the field the green-jerseyed eleven unrolled 
its fast series of plays. Even as Larry’s 
eyes sought out the formidable full-back he 
dropped back for a punt and sent the ball 
booming down the field for sixty-five yards 
with the whining wind to drive it on its 
high arc. 

As abruptly as the signal practice had 
started, it was called to an end. Captains 
and the officials conferred in the center of 
the field. A coin spun in the air, and Hilton 
had won the choice, choosing the north goal 
which gave the Green the big advantage of 
the wind. 

In an instant the teams were in position 
for the kick. With eyes riveted upon the 


PREPARING FOR HILTON 


189 


ball, every one nnconscionsly leaned forward. 
A momentary bnsh fell npon the field as the 
referee questioned the teams, set for the 
whistle. 


CHAPTER IX 


THE BIG GAME 

‘ ‘ Whee-ee-ee-ee ! ’ ’ 

The shrill wail of the referee’s whistle 
thrilled every man within its hearing. 

‘‘Plunk!” 

As Leonard’s instep lifted the hall into the 
wind, the line swept forward like an ava- 
lanche. Football history was being made. 

Robbed of its momentum by the wind, the 
ball dropped into the arms of the Hilton 
captain. Weeds, who shot out to the left, out- 
running three tacklers and dodging a fourth 
in the broken field before he stacked up over 
the shoulder of Edwards, after a gain of 
twenty-five yards. 

The thundering phalanges in the east 
bleachers greeted this beginning with a 
united shout through which the blare of the 
Hilton band was scarcely distinguishable. 
Old grads and undergrads on that side 
190 


THE BIG GAME 


191 


slapped each other on the back and nodded: 
‘‘I told yon so.’^ 

Without a signal the Green opened a series 
of plays, skirting Henley’s end for a good 
gain before he fully realized that the game 
was on. 

The lines, however, proved evenly matched 
on the next attempt — a straight buck by left 
half — and the player was thrown for a loss. 
Then Weeds was called on to make the dis- 
tance on third down. 

Behind a well-knit formation of green jer- 
seys, he swept irresistibly around his left 
wing, smashing directly otf tackle where Ed- 
wards had been boxed despite his most stub- 
born resistance against the Hilton tackle and 
end. Garner and Leonard went down under 
the interference; and Weeds went through to 
Larry, who, in his anxiety to stop him, met 
the gigantic full-back with a dive tackle. 

‘^Eockwood is penalized five yards,” 
droned the umpire; and Larry took his sta- 
tion in the secondary defense with a resolve 
to keep one foot on the ground hereafter in 
his tackles. 

Again, Hilton attempted and succeeded 


192 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


with the same play, Edwards being boxed 
for the second time, and Garner encountering 
hard sledding with the close, but perfectly 
legal interference. Leonard and Larry from 
front and side tackled simultaneously, but the 
powerful runner gained his length even in 
falling. 

It was a revelation of strength to the Eock- 
wood team, for Edwards, Garner, and Leon- 
ard were widely esteemed to be strong, expe- 
rienced players. 

When forward passes and trick plays 
failed to gain as expected. Weeds invari- 
ably fell back on his skin-tackle plunge to 
one side or the other, puncturing the line 
regularly for five yards or more. Into 
these plays Larry dived headlong time after 
time, until he came out limping from a kick 
on his right thigh. It seemed as if nothing 
would serve to check the steady advance of 
the Green. 

As a flurry of snow swept over the west 
stands, the Eockwood adherents began to 
chant the strains of the ’Varsity song; 

to the Grey and Crimson! 

Hail to the men who wear it, ’ ' 


THE BIG GAME 


193 


with an inconsolable note creeping into 
the dogged loyalty as if the singers were 
trying to persuade themselves that their 
team was not defeated. 

Larry’s mind went back in a flash to Gor- 
don’s low words, ‘‘Barring accidents, we’re 
licked off the turf;” but in the same instant 
he recalled the motto from which the signals 
were formulated; “Fight on, Lads!” 

At last on the thirty-five yard line, the 
Crimson and Grey braced, welded together 
by the pressure of necessity. Twice the Hil- 
ton backfield flung itself upon the line, and 
like waves slung against a stalwart cliff, 
broke and was thrown back. Although the 
team was almost against the side-line. Weeds 
danced back into position for a drop- 
kick. 

The pass came true into his hands. He 
took a quick step and swung his toe under 
the pigskin as it rose from the hard ground. 
Twenty-two thousand pairs of eyes watched 
the ball sail over the bar and between the 
uprights from the difficult angle, for the 
opening score. Fifteen thousand of the 
Hilton cohorts rent the air with an outburst 


194 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


of pent-up delirious joy, and the band on 
the east side boomed with all its might. 

Loyal cheering came from the west bleach- 
ers to give heart to the team just scored upon ; 
but there was a missing note of triumph that 
usually was found in that yell. 

The scorer affixed a huge figure three be- 
hind the green emblem denoting the home 
team. 

Now, if ever, was the time for Captain 
Leonard to come to the front in the crisis 
and steady his team ; but the captain seemed 
for the time as much stunned as any of the 
others. Even Edwards, veteran as he was, 
appeared to be momentarily demoralized. 
No one had thought it possible for Hilton to 
score within the first five minutes of play. 
Probably this over-confidence was the very 
thing that had led to the surprising result. 

Taking advantage of the chaos, the Hilton 
captain quickly demanded of Leonard his 
option, either to kick or to receive the kick- 
off. As the Crimson and Grey had been un- 
able to stop the Green offense, Leonard de- 
cided it might be safer for Rockwood to 
accept the possession of the ball, and elected 


THE BIG GAME 


197 


frozen turf and waited for the first move- 
ment of the opposing center’s hands. 
Larry noted a false start on the part of one 
of the half-backs and cried: 

^‘Through yon, Jake!” 

Jacobson, had already guessed as much. 
Springing to the right, he leaned forward 
to seize his unbalanced opponent by the 
shoulder pads and whip him through to the 
left. Into this opening he stepped to meet 
the runner squarely behind the line. Leon- 
ard and Larry choked up the aperture be- 
hind him, fighting to get through. 

‘‘Second down, five to gain,” came the call 
when the mass of legs and arms had been dis- 
entangled. 

“Once more, boys! Once more!” pleaded 
Larry. 

This time it was Edwards’ tackle that was 
the objective point. For the first time 
Weeds failed to gain. Instead he was 
thrown hack for a loss of more than a yard. 

A third time the defense stiffened; and 
squared away for desperate fighting. A 
powerful smash at center did not gain Weeds 
an inch. Brown and Joe both had their arms 


198 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


locked about the runner and Pierce and 
Larry toppled him back with his support. 
The ball went over to Rockwood eight yards 
from the goal. Once more the west stands 
began to breathe almost normally. The 
peril of the time had passed, and the Rock- 
wood eleven had showed itself capable of a 
magnificent rally. Then came the yell : 

* ‘ Rockwood ! 

Rah, rah, rah, Rockwood! 

Rah, rah, rah! 

Rah, rah, rah! 

Rah, rah, rah, Rockwood!’^ 

^ ^ Sky-rocket ’ howled the yell-leader with 
the megaphone. In answer came a crackling 
hiss and deep cannonading from the thou- 
sands of rooters. 

“Siss! Boom! 

Siss, siss, siss! 

Boom, boom, boom ! 

Siss — ss — ss — ss — 

Boom ! 

Rockwood, Rockwood, Rockwood!” 

‘^Signal!’’ piped Pierce. ‘‘Signal!’’ 

Head back to the driving storm, he bayed 
his numbers to the wind. At the charging 


THE BIG GAME 


199 


number, the line swayed forward and locked 
with the opposing one. With Ward, Pierce, 
and Larry for interference. Captain Leon- 
ard took the ball around right end for a four- 
yard gain. 

Ward on a criss-cross delayed pass play 
was then shot into a hole opened by Jacob- 
son for a two-yard gain. 

Taking an extraordinary chance of losing 
the ball almost at the goal. Pierce called for 
a straight buck. With four yards to go, and 
the odds heavily against making it, Larry 
questioned the quarter-back’s judgment, al- 
though Leonard should have been the one to 
call him on his error. 

‘^What’s the matter — snapped Pierce, 
when Larry advised a kick. ‘^Cold feet?” 

Larry set his jaw, and took his position 
without another word. He knew he was 
right. Pierce also, had awakened to the fact 
a kick was the only play under the circum- 
stances; but he would not acknowledge it 
then, and Leonard did not step into the crisis 
as he should have done. 

— seven — ” Pierce called again, order- 
ing a plunge oif right tackle. 


200 LARKY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Edwards boxed bis opponent with Hen- 
ley’s help, and Leonard smothered the end. 
Larry hugged the ball into his stomach, and 
jammed his way through to the secondary 
line, some six yards, before he was dragged 
down by Weeds. 

Pierce contritely helped him to his feet. 

‘^Didn’t mean that about cold feet, old 
man,” he apologized, as they ran back to 
their places. ‘‘We all know you haven’t any 
streak of yellow anywhere. That was too 
risky. Signal ! L — one — F — three — G — ' 
seven — A — four. ’ ’ 

With the entire back field and the right 
end, he was off around the left wing for an 
end run. One at a time his interference was 
picked off, and Pierce was finally downed for 
a slight loss when he attempted to dodge his 
tackier by turning back. 

On the next play Hilton was penalized five 
yards, however, on an off-side play, which 
helped to retrieve this loss. Next, Pierce 
tried a quick line shift, and trick end run, 
but the fast left ends broke up the interfer- 
ence, and Weeds stopped Ward as he crossed 
the line of scrimmage. 


THE BIG GAME 


201 


At this point, with six yards to gain, 
Pierce erred again; refusing a second time 
to kick and instead called for a forward pass 
to Garner. The veteran end was just fast 
enough to reach the ball with one numb hand, 
deflecting it straight into the arms of the 
Hilton quarterback who was o:ff like a shot 
down the field, before Garner could check 
himself in his stride to whirl about and make 
a tackle. 

Followed every foot of the way by howls of 
joy from the east bleachers, and watched in 
terror-smitten suspense by the opposite 
stands, the chunky Green quarter sped down 
the field. Garner was gaining fast behind 
him, hut was too far even for a dive tackle, 
had that been permitted. The Eockwood 
line and the secondary defense cut across far 
to the side in a desperate effort to intercept 
him on the five- or ten-yard line, but the dis- 
tance was too great. Just as the quarter- 
back neared the goal-line Leonard made the 
tackle, dragging down the stout little player, 
who fell across the last lime marker. 

This tackle failed to forestall a touchdown, 
but it cost the Green a point on the missed 


202 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


try-at-goal, as Weeds decided to try to kick 
goal at this difficult angle rather than to slow 
the game by a punt-out and allow a little rest 
during which the Crimson and Grey could re- 
cover from its panic. 

The eleventh minute had just expired when 
the scorer hung up an immense ^^ 8 ’’ behind 
Hilton’s emblematic miniature football. 

Captain Leonard elected to kick this time, 
and lifted the ball to one of the Hilton half- 
backs. Almost immediately Weeds punted 
the ball back, gaining fifteen yards on the 
exchange, owing to the advantage of the wind. 
Pierce called for a fierce assault on the line, 
after failing to gain on a quarter-back run, 
but Ward gained only two yards and it was 
necessary to punt again. 

This time Leonard punted to the twenty- 
five yard line, and Weeds on the first scrim- 
mage sent the ball booming back to the Rock- 
wood thirty yard line, gaining another ten 
yards. 

Gordon paced the side-lines like a caged 
bear when he noted the gains on the double 
exchange. When Pierce called a forward 
pass, he was infuriated. 


THE BIG GAME 


203 


‘^It’s too cold for a safe pass,’’ lie mut- 
tered to Dad Bussell and McLean who were 
with him on the side-lines. ‘‘Their hands 
are too cold to handle the ball. Look at that 
now. Oh, we’re done now; sure enough!” 

Ward, who endeavored to handle this pass 
from Leonard, juggled the ball uncertainly, 
then lost it momentarily to a Hilton half, who 
fumbled it in turn. A wild melee ensued, but 
Joe Stanley luckily recovered the possession 
of the pigskin in the scramble over the snow. 

Pierce was slowly being taught that trick 
plays and forward passes, upon which the 
eleven had been specializing, were unsafe on 
a day like this when fumbles and misplays 
were to he expected ; but he decided to try one 
more on-side kick. Leonard, however, called 
a change of signals on this, and punted in- 
stead. Weeds put steam into his return and 
punted back sixty yards. 

As the contest ranged up and down the 
turfed arena, it was becoming very apparent 
it must be a kicking game. The burden of 
responsibility was to be shifted upon Bock- 
wood’s weakest link in the machine. 

Out-punted normally, and now held to an 


204 LAKEY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


overwhelming disadvantage by the driving 
snow storm be was compelled to face, Cap- 
tain Leonard lost fully twenty yards on a 
double exchange of punts. The last time be 
kicked out from behind bis own goal posts, 
and the Hilton quarter-back made a fair catch 
on the forty-yard line, just a little to one side 
of the goal. 

Weeds took great pains with bis place kick 
and sent the ball sailing over the cross-bar 
and between the uprights for a score that 
aroused the east stands to a frenzy. The 
disconsolate west stands bad little inclina- 
tion to celebrate ; but responded loyally to the 
call of the yell leaders and did their part to 
show they still bad confidence in the team 
which bad been picked to battle for their 
honor. These cheers aroused the team as a 
sullen and disappointed silence could never 
have done. 

^^Boys,’’ called Captain Leonard, ^‘we 
can’t let this game go over just because 
we went to pieces at the start. Here’s where 
we get together, and play ball.” 

Those who had faced defeat before and had 
turned it into victory drew heavily upon their 


THE BIG GAME 


205 


experience in previous pinches and flung 
themselves into the conflict with a spirit which 
gave the entire eleven a new fighting zeal. 
They knew they had faced their worst. Now 
every player realized that this must be a 
grinding contest such as he had never faced 
before, and he rose to the occasion. 

Again Captain Leonard kicked otf, this 
time working the old trick of making a great 
display of effort as if for a powerful drive, 
then striking the ball lightly on top so it 
rolled just beyond the required ten-yards’ 
distance. The line had been warned of what 
would be tried, and while Herbert blocked off 
the Hilton center, Plugger Brown fell on the 
ball. 

It was in Eockwood’s possession for the 
first time in the opponent’s territory. The 
west bleachers, scenting a change of luck, let 
out a volume of sound which showed the de- 
light of the Crimson and Grey adherents. 

Taken by surprise, Hilton was still further 
amazed by the result of the first scrimmage, 
when a delayed triple pass from Pierce to 
Leonard and then to Larry netted eighteen 
yards around the left end. Now within twen- 


206 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


ty-five yards of the north goal, Leonard made 
an attempt to drop-kick a goal from field. 

The gusty wind carried the ball several 
yards to the side, and the Green eleven made 
the kickout from behind the twenty-five yard 
line. Just as Ward bucked center for a yard 
the timekeeper ^s whistle brought the teams 
from the concentration of the battle for the 
three-minute respite between the first and 
second periods, and chased the players to 
the other end of the field. 

Although the goals were changed under the 
new rules, the distance and the down re- 
mained as before. But now the plan of battle 
was changed. With the aid of the wind, 
Leonard was able to out-punt Weeds who 
must meet its strong resistance for the sec- 
ond quarter, and the Rockwood leader was 
as anxious to exchange punts as Hilton had 
been before. 

Only the trainer was allowed to come on 
the field during the brief interval, but Leon- 
ard tried to interpret the thoughts of the head 
coach who paced the side-lines with his in- 
tense, nervous manner. The talk of the cap- 
tain was concerned mainly with technicalities, 


THE BIG GAME 


207 


but helped somewhat to stir the eleven to a 
firm resolve. 

In some way the team did not follow Leon- 
ard readily. While all recognized him as a 
hard-playing and dependable half-back, he 
was not considered a magnetic leader, as Don 
Stillman had been the previous season. He 
lacked something in the way of dash and bril- 
liancy, although far from being mediocre. 
His talk, therefore, did not have the galvanic 
effect that one from Gordon would have had. 

Leonard opened the second quarter with a 
punt that did his heart good. He got his 
power into the kick and the gale drove it down 
the field for sixty-two yards. Doing his best. 
Weeds could return it but fifty yards. 

A second punt went fifty-five yards, and 
Weeds decided not to return it as long as he 
could gain ground. Titan as he was, how- 
ever, he could not equal his performance dur- 
ing the opening moments when the Eockwood 
eleven was disorganized; and soon he was 
compelled to punt again. 

In time a triple exchange was effected, then 
the Crimson and Grey began to hammer again 
at the Green line, and try to skirt the ends. 


208 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


On a fake place-kick wliich lie converted into 
a forward pass, Leonard shot the ball to Gar- 
ner who ran twenty yards before being 
dragged down. This was the only trick play 
which worked, and Larry, Ward, and Leon- 
ard were depended upon to gain the most 
ground by criss-cross and delayed line 
plunges. 

But as the opponents ’ goal was approached, 
their defense stiffened. Every scrimmage 
showed desperate fighting. At length on the 
ten-yard line, Leonard failed to make the line 
on third down and the ball changed hands. 

Weeds tried the skin-tackle play which had 
formerly worked so smoothly, hut Jacobson 
stopped him at the line so sharply that the 
full-back was compelled to take time out after 
the hard tackle until he could regain his 
breath. He prepared to kick then. 

Perhaps he was still a little dazed. At any 
rate he was a trifle slow, and Joe broke 
through in time to block the kick. One of 
Weeds’ teammates, however, fell on the ball; 
and the next time the giant captain got his 
punt off in good shape. 


THE BIG GAME 


209 


The former punting duel was renewed ; but 
when the Crimson and Grey once more had 
worked down to within striking distance of 
the goal, a costly fumble left the team with 
the same work to do again. The half ended 
before Eockwood could score. 

It was a downcast squad which trailed 
into the dressing quarter between the halves 
to listen to a harangue every man felt was 
more than ordinarily deserved. The ’Var- 
sity men were steaming with their labors, 
despite the snow and the icy wind ; while the 
subs who had crouched under the blankets 
on the bench, were shivering from the ex- 
posure to the storm. 

In the stands the spectators had stamped 
the blood into their cold feet, and kept up 
a circulation with their gesticulating and hop- 
ping up and down from their seats; but the 
subs had been denied this exercise. They sat 
silently, eating their hearts out in disappoint- 
ment because no one was laid out to permit 
the entrance of a new man in the line-up. 
They got scant consideration when they piled 
into the locker-room, where every attention 


210 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


was devoted to refreshing the wearied play- 
ers, while Gordon seared them with his crit- 
icism of their play. 

What was that yon boys thought you were 
playing?^’ he demanded with withering sar- 
casm. ^‘It wasn^t football. No real football 
team ever played the way you did. It was 
the rottenest exhibition I ever saw staged by 
any Warsity eleven. That hits all of you. 

‘^Why, even Edwards went up in the air 
with the rest of you, after all the coaching 
we gave you for just such an emergency. 
Boys, we have done everything possible for 
you, but we canT play out there on the field. 
CanT you do anything at all, just half as 
well as you know howl 

‘‘The weather is sure to cause some fum- 
bling, but it was mighty costly for Burke to 
miss that kick-otf. I want to say, though, 
that wasnT a bit worse than Piercers noodle- 
work when he called a line-buck with four to 
make on third down, running the risk of giv- 
ing them the ball right then instead of kick- 
ing it a mile down the field. 

“ Pierce, you went bad on calling so many 
risky trick plays and forward passes so near 


THE BIG GAME 


211 


your own goal. It was one of those that gave 
them that touchdown. You have been gain- 
ing more distance through the line, anyway. 
Plug away there. Their guards arenT any 
too strong. Cap, watch his signals and don’t 
let him bobble like that in his judgment. By 
the way, you’d better have that ankle re- 
wrapped and braced again before you go out. 

‘‘You fellows have been rotten, but I will 
say this much for you. You’ve gone bad 
in the head and not in the heart. I know 
there is not one quitter or squealer on the 
team, and when you go out, it will be with 
your jaws squared, and your minds made 
up to fight until you win. You have the sand. 
I know it ! All I want is for you to show it to 
those people out there. 

“Don’t get the idea I think for a minute 
you have given up the scrap. I know better. 
All this has just been a preliminary to warm 
you up for the real goods. They’ve handed 
you three stitf jolts that surprised you as 
much as they have hurt. They’ve knocked 
you down, but not out. You were pretty un- 
steady in the first round ; but you found your 
legs in the second round. The next two will 


212 LAERY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


be all your way. Barring accidents, they 
have this game all sewed up, they seem to 
think. That was the mistake which cost yon 
dearly in the first two periods, and it’s the 
one that they will have to pay for in the next 
two. ’ ’ 

The timekeeper suddenly thrust his head 
in at the door, with his warning that only two 
minutes of the intermission remained. The 
head coach walked to the door. 

‘^You have your option to kick or be 
kicked to. Cap. Now you kick; and then 
stiffen up and hold them for downs the way 
you did on the five yard line. For the sake 
of us who have coached you, and for the 
college which expects to see you win, ginger 
up! Fight from whistle to whistle! You 
linemen, break through and tackle behind the 
line. Break your necks to spoil one of 
Weeds’ punts the way Stanley did! You 
backs, puncture the line! Drive into it with 
your legs and back and shoulders, when you 
smash into an opening ! Bowl oyer your men 
when you are interfering for somebody 
else. 

^ ^ Whatever you do, do hard ! The college 


THE BIG GAME 


21S 


indirectly picked you to do it honor, and it 
doesn’t make any difference how dead tired 
you are! Just so you play a square game, 
you can’t go into it too hard. Now tear 
out there and win, so we can all he proud of 
you. Forget everything else you want to, if 
you only remember to put up a real scrap and 
redeem yourselves ! ’ ’ 

Dogged determination replaced over-confi- 
dence in the hearts of the wearied players 
who had sprawled on rubbing-tables and 
benches under the bitter sting of Gordon’s 
vituperation. With his words ringing in 
their ears, they jogged back upon the snowy 
field with grimness written in every line of 
their faces. 

But the rival coach also must have talked 
to Hilton between the halves, for the green- 
jersied players came out with much the same 
air of determination; as if anxious to catch 
the stride which had been the undoing of the 
visitors in the first quarter. 

First there came a confident roar from the 
east bleachers, where thousands of spectators 
were massed in a sloping wall that showed 
black through the driving snow storm. En- 


214 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


couraged by their early success, they pounded 
out their ’Varsity yell, again and again: 

‘^Hilton! Rah, rah, rah! 

Hilton! Rah, rah, rah! 

Hilton! Hilton! Hilton!” 

But the west stands were not to be out- 
done. The amphitheatre boomed with a 
crisp : 

^ ^ Hullabaloo ! Hooray — hooroo ! 

Hullabaloo ! Hooray — hooroo ! 

Zip! Hi! Ray! Hoo! 

Rockwood ! 

Who? Rockwood! R-O-C-K-W-O-O-D ! 

Rockwood ! ’ ’ 

Then came the ’Varsity yell, followed by 
the sky-rocket; then succeeded in turn by: 

‘‘Hurrah, hurray, hurrah! 

Tiger! Siss! Boom! Ah — ! 

Rockwood ! ’ ’ 

Individual cheers for every member of the 
team helped to reassure the eleven that the 
bleachers had not altogether lost hope in a 
creditable showing, simply because Hilton 
had an eleven-point lead. 

J oe and Larry found new energy when their 


THE BIG GAME 


215 


names were rolled out across tlie gridiron, 
with deep-throated volume. They resolved 
that they would do their utmost to retrieve 
the day for their Alma Mater. 

In a minute the leather-helmeted warriors 
squared off for the resumption of the battle, 
and Captain Leonard booted the ball to the 
Hilton right end on the kick-otf. It was re- 
turned only a few yards before Jacobson 
swung in for a staggering tackle, and bore 
the lighter runner back with his weight and 
strength. 

Hilton again took up a terrific line assault, 
varied occasionally by tackle-around plays to 
rest the backs momentarily ; hut end runs and 
forward passes failed to gain. Within three 
minutes Weeds and his running mates had 
so far exhausted themselves that they feared 
to lose the oval on downs. The giant full- 
back therefore punted, and Eockwood had 
its opportunity to try otfensive tactics 
again. 

Two desperate attempts to advance the 
ball netted first down, and the team buckled 
down to the task at hand with new hope. 
Steady plugging carried the pigskin almost 


216 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

to the middle of the field ; but here a fumble 
lost Rockwood its possession. 

A similar fumble on one of Weeds’ trick 
plays, however, gave back the advantage al- 
most immediately, and again the Crimson and 
Grey started on its steady march toward the 
goal-posts. But once more ill-fortune inter- 
fered with well-laid plans, when a forward 
pass to Henley was intercepted. Weeds 
kicked out of danger. 

The wearing onslaught was renewed, bub 
as time sped by, the vigorous sharpness of 
the attack slowly dulled. After passing the 
Hilton thirty yard line, the eleven seemed too 
exhausted to go the rest of the distance. 
Leonard prepared for a drop-kick, and the 
line held splendidly; but his double-braced 
ankle was paining him so that he failed mis- 
erably. 

The east bleachers howled derisively as 
the Rockwood players scattered to receive the 
kick-out from in back of the twenty-five yard 
line. But this time they had cheered too 
soon. 

High and well-driven by the gale, the ball 
soared to Larry on his own twenty-five yard 


THE BIG GAME 


221 


a new lead to supplant the one he had flashed 
in only five minutes before. 

After the kick-otf by Hilton, there was not 
enough time for either eleven to score again 
in this period. The few remaining minutes 
were spent in long passing, frequent kicking 
and unravelling of trick plays on both sides, 
neither having any noticeable advantage. 
The third quarter ended with the ball in 
Eockwood^s possession on her own thirty 
yard line. 

Leonard was vastly more buoyed up with 
hope of victory than he had been during the 
first three-minute intermission, and he talked 
to his team with fiery spirit. 

^‘WeTl start in with a rush, now; and sur- 
prise them with a few of those double-T 
tricks we have been holding in reserve,’^ he 
stated. ‘‘Wefil try that double pass first, 
Burke to Garner to myself. That ought to 
be good for twenty yards. Then the second 
fake punt should be good for another ten at 
least. 

The timekeeper’s whistle cut short any 
further plans for the trick series, and the 
teams made ready for the first scrimmage, 


222 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


after reversing goals. The wintry dnsk was 
shutting down with the storm, and the stands 
were unable to see as distinctly as before. 
The quarter-back’s shrill signals soon set the 
mass in motion. 

In a puzzling play that worked splendidly, 
Larry dropped the pigskin neatly into Gar- 
ner’s arms with a long spiral pass to the dis- 
tant end. Garner made off down the field at 
top speed, but three men had him headed off 
before he had gone far. At that instant, 
however, when the first tackier dived for his 
knees he shot the ball quickly to Leonard, on 
the inside of him but unwatched at the time. 
From both sides the pursuit concentrated 
upon the fleet captain. Weeds bringing him 
down in a spectacular tackle, as he crossed 
the forty-five yard line. 

The Hilton captain himself was dazed by 
the impact ; but gained his feet in a moment. 
His rival, however, could not rise. In a few 
seconds, the squad physician was on the field 
and found Edwards and Larry tugging a 
wrenched knee into place, while Joe unlaced 
the shoe from the injured right ankle which 
was swelling rapidly. 


THE BIG GAME 


223 


The plucky captain was protesting against 
time being taken out for him, and insisted he 
was fit to go on with the game ; hut the doctor 
peremptorily ordered him off the field, after 
applying a roll of bandages to bring the dis- 
located knee-cap into place. With a rueful 
grimace, Leonard gave over objecting and 
looked dolefully at his sympathetic team- 
mates. 

Larry, old man, take charge,’^ he ordered 
weakly. ‘‘Act as captain, you know; and re- 
member we have to win!’’ 

He fell back exhausted. 

Weeds and Jacobson tenderly raised his 
shoulders while Larry and the physician bore 
his feet, quickly carrying Leonard to the side- 
lines where the substitutes hustled him to the 
gymnasium. The injury was only tempo- 
rary, the doctor assured them, and the yell- 
captains announced this news to their sec- 
tions, which cheered Leonard with non-par- 
tisan appreciation. Then suddenly, Larry 
realized the responsibility for the remainder 
of the game rested with him. 

First he must * fill the left-half back po- 
sition. None of the substitutes for the place 


224 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


were of caliber to stand the test of this im- 
portant crisis. In fact the only star snb on 
the side-lines was Wallie Rogers for quarter. 
Wallie never had practised at half, but Pierce 
had often played the position, and the ’Var- 
sity quarter caught Larry’s quick decision. 

“Sure, that’s best,” Pierce agreed as the 
temporary captain called for Wallie. 

Gordon on the side-line had already come 
to the same conclusion and had ordered the 
freshman in. 

“Time up,” called the referee, as Wallie 
ran out upon the field, fresh for the fray, 
keyed up to the highest notch, and overflow- 
ing with energy. 

“Signal I” he cried. 

It was like a trumpet call to battle. As 
he swept along the line, he passed his hands 
lightly over the bulging muscles of the line- 
men’s backs and shoulders. From end to 
end the players set their teeth, braced them- 
selves, and with the snapping of the ball 
surged forward. 

Pierce, in a cross-buck took the ball eight 
yards. Ward gained one' more, and then 
Larry rammed his way through the center for 


THE BIG GAME 


225 


the necessary distance and three yards be- 
yond. With every play Larry and the indom- 
itable little quarter had a few encouraging 
words, bonds which drew the individual play- 
ers together, and for the first time the eleven 
men played as one while the crackling sig- 
nals kept them on the run. 

With tiger-like ferocity the three backs 
plugged the center and guard openings, 
ripped open the tackles, and bowled over the 
ends. It was a semi-revival of old-fashioned 
football, and was succeeding under these ad- 
verse weather conditions as the new style 
game had not succeeded. With a splendid 
rally the entire team marched surely down 
the field, pounding positions which showed 
wider openings with the steady advance. 

‘^Touchdown! Touchdown! We want a 
touchdown!’’ howled the thousands in the 
west stand. The continuous chant rose and 
fell weirdly as the wind strengthened and 
died away. 

‘‘Hold ’em! Hold ’em!” pleaded the east 
stands ; but the menacing attack would not be 
denied. 

Almost always it required the three downs 


226 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

to gain the distance; bnt relentlessly the 
grinding machine stamped its way across 
the writhing hacks of the dismayed Hilton 
warriors. Pierce was playing brilliantly, 
while Ward made a worthy running mate for 
him. Wallie Rogers was proving himself, 
time and again, a better quarter-hack than 
Pierce ever had been, shining particularly in 
his dashing open-field running. Gordon had 
not been altogether wrong in calling the light 
star, ‘‘Glassware.’’ Every hard tackle 
looked as if it would break the little fresh- 
man in two; still he always found enough 
nerve to cement the fragments for the next 
effort. 

Larry rose to the occasion even more than 
these others. He raced through the slight- 
est opening in the line for gains in crucial mo- 
ments. On end runs he often wrapped his 
long fingers about the end of the hall as if 
to make a forward pass, and more than once 
he diverted attention to some probable re- 
cipient, dividing the defense by these threats, 
then speeding on until finally pulled to earth. 

Down the field the Crimson and Grey 
mowed its way, crossing the fifty, the forty. 


THE BIG GAME 


227 


tlie thirty, the twenty yard lines. Fruitlessly, 
the tottering Green line rallied and braced. 
Weeds called in substitutes, who did worse 
than the fatigued regulars they displaced, 
although they dug their cleated shoes through 
the drifted snow and into the frozen turf, 
striving in vain to cling to the yards that 
slipped away beneath them. 

With bulldog tenacity. Weeds backed the 
most threatened points, playing like a demon ; 
but the team had lost faith in itself. It did 
not answer to his voice as the Eockwood 
machine thrilled to the vibrant call of its 
acting captain. 

At last, having made first down on the 
eight yard line, the team drew together for 
a supreme effort. Thrilled by the spectacle, 
thousands silently watched the rival teams 
huddled together in the corner of the grid- 
iron, the gathering darkness lowering upon 
them, while the wind shrieked dismally over- 
head. No viking of old was even more en- 
grossed in any battle. 

Larry knew but one thing, there were eight 
yards to go — and he was ready to give any- 
thing to make the distance. His forehead 


228 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


was puckered with lines of intense purpose, 
his jaw was set, his eyes were gleaming as 
he shouted: 

‘ ‘Now, or never ! Let ’s go ! ” 

At the charging signal he plunged forward, 
hugged the ball into the pit of his stomach, 
picked the slightest suspicion of an opening 
between Plugger Brown and Joe Stanley, and 
smashed into it like a battering ram, shoul- 
ders and hips on a line, and the driving 
power of his back and legs utilized to the last 
ounce of power. His head was the entering 
wedge which split the line, and he strained his 
way through for three yards. 

The strap to his head gear flapped under 
his jaw when he pulled himself erect again. 
He tossed the broken helmet away and sent 
his noseguard after it in prodigal defiance. 
He limped a little from a twinge of pain. 
Through a jagged triangular tear in his stock- 
ing his calf showed blue and torn from the 
stamp of heavy cleats, but he was not aware 
of any injury. 

“Once more, boys he pleaded, and helped 
to clear the way for Pierce’s four-yard gain 
through Edwards’ tackle. 


THE BIG GAME 


229 


With one yard to gain, Larry plowed 
through between Herbert and Jacobson for 
a scant four feet. The west stands went in- 
sane. 

The score was tied. Larry must kick goal 
to win. Utterly exhausted and nerve-racked 
from the strain he had gone through, Larry 
faced the hardest proposition he had ever 
attempted. While the ball was over some 
distance to the side, he did not wish to risk 
a fair catch on a punt-out with the strong 
wind to take into consideration. 

He decided to take his chances with the 
difficult angle and gave the oval to Wallie 
to hold for the place kick. With a level place 
selected, the new quarter-back lay down and 
adjusted the ball in his hands just above the 
ground. Larry critically advised him how to 
straighten it: 

‘‘Square the seam around. Top a little 
more to you! There! No; towards me 
just a little! Hold it there! Now, put ’er 
down.’’ 

He took a quick step forward, made his 
final allowance for the varying storm, swung 
his instep under the leather and watched it 


230 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


soar up squarely between the narrow goal 
posts. 

While the Crimson and Grey ^‘Howling 
Host^’ cheered itself speechless, and rioted 
with its joy of victory, a dozen instruments 
high in the press stand industriously ticked 
out the story’’ of the big game to the world 
at large, featuring the plucky finish by Rock- 
wood after the loss of the captain. In his 
second paragraph, following the flash of the 
latest score in his lead, Donovan was heard 
by those around to dictate rapidly: 

^^Two new stars leaped into fame in ten 
minutes of play, when Lawrence Burke, a 
sophomore in his second year on the team, 
more than replaced the injured captain, and 
led the greatest rally ever seen on the local 
gridiron, assisted by Wallace Rogers, a fresh- 
man, who showed many flashes of brilliant 
play as quarter-back after Pierce had been 
shifted to fill Leonard’s vacancy. Burke 
earned both touchdowns, one of which he 
made by a spectacular run of eighty-five 
yards through a broken field. The newcomer 
compared favorably with Captain Weeds of 
Hilton who is conceded to be the All-Ameri- 


THE BIG GAME 


231 


can choice for full-back. A more magnetic 
leader can scarcely be chosen to captain the 
Crimson and Grey next season. 

But this did not begin to express what the 
Eockwood students thought of Larry. No 
sooner did the timekeeper’s whistle end the 
game, than they swarmed over the field and 
caught up the players to ride on the shoulders 
about the arena, behind the student band, 
leading the serpent dance about the enclo- 
sure in the traditional celebration of the State 
championship. 

Every player was supremely happy as he 
was carried around this field. It meant the 
consummation of his hopes and dreams of the 
last three months. What did any man care 
if he was battered and bruised? He could 
count his hurts on the morrow, and would for- 
get them altogether in a week. This was the 
moment to enjoy the fruits of victory. 

Not the least of Larry’s pleasure came as 
he was carried out of the arena where he had 
fought so hard. At the gates stood Dad 
Eussell, who had enjoyed the victory more 
than any x)ne, unless it was Larry’s sister 
whom he had brought down from Burketon 


232 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


to witness the game. The sophomore 
reached down to clasp RnsselUs hand and 
wave to his sister ; but at that minute his eye 
caught a dainty figure waving to him from 
the nearest corner of the bleachers. It was 
Jane Dale, who had come to the game with 
her old chum, Helene Ware, and Ned. 
Larry eyes saw nothing else. 


CHAPTER X 


^^THE EEAL LEADEB’’ 

CABEEirnTG through the crowd on the shoul- 
ders of their supporters, the Rockwood play- 
ers were tossed like unevenly ballasted skiffs 
in a rough sea. Often it seemed as if they 
would be dropped, but if they had been they 
would have fallen upon the heads of the 
throng massed about. Near the door of the 
gymnasium there came a collision with the 
Green partisans, who carried the Hilton 
eleven. For an instant it seemed as if there 
would be a rough argument, hut Captain 
Weeds quickly ordered room for the visitors, 
then leaned forward and shook hands with 
Larry over the heads of the rival factions. 

Since Leonard isn’t here at the finish I’ll 
congratulate the acting captain!” he called, 
smiling in spite of his disappointment at the 
outcome of the game. “In the last half of 
that game, you fellows pulled off the grandest 
rally I ever saw; and I guess, after all, I’m 
233 


234 LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


congratulating the man who responsible for 
it. I take my hat off to yon, Burke. ’ ^ 

Thanks awfully, I’m only sorry we 
couldn’t both win,” returned Larry, badly 
confused by the public praise. ‘‘You cer- 
tainly gave us a run for our money, until 
luck favored us. Come on, fellows — three 
times three for Hilton!” 

The cheers were given heartily. 

“Now three for Weeds, boys — come on!” 

Laughing good-naturedly, the Rockwood 
students pushed through to the door of the 
gymnasium, while the Hilton captain con- 
siderately held back to make things pleasant 
for the visiting team. The figure of that 
sturdy giant, big enough to smile after los- 
ing his last and hardest game, made a last- 
ing impression on Larry as he glanced back 
from the entrance to the locker-rooms. 

Inside, things were in their usual state of 
confusion, with the alumni celebrating, the 
players trying to undress and wash up, and 
the rubbers doing their best to pour hot water 
over a lame knee here, and knead the kinks 
out of a battered shoulder there. Scrappy 
McLean and Gordon met Larry at the door. 


‘‘THE REAL LEADER” 


235 


hoisted him into the air, hustled him across 
the room and dumped him into a tub of hot 
water in pure excess of enthusiasm. As he 
crawled out, Leonard turned on the rubbing 
table and raised up to shout : 

“Fine business, Larry. I’m almost glad 
now they laid me out because it made way 
for a real leader. It certainly worked out 
better than I ever hoped it could at the end 
of the first half.” 

This was the satisfied comment on every 
hand. Larry was so disconcerted that he 
made haste to dress and escape with Joe and 
Wallie to the hotel where a dinner was being 
prepared to take the place of the big break- 
training banquet that invariably followed the 
last game when it was held on the home 
grounds. But all along the way he was 
shouted at on the street and pounded on the 
shoulders by a score of students. Wallie and 
Joe had only a shade less fuss made over 
them as the trio hurried along. 

Raking together a number of broken boxes 
found in the rear of a small department store, 
the Crimson and Grey enthusiasts had built 
a huge bonfire in the intersection of the two 


236 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

principal streets, the apology for a police 
force being inadequate to check the boys who 
grinned and pushed the confused patrolmen 
with a polite ‘‘Excuse me,^’ accompanying 
every shove. 

It was the duty of the freshmen to hustle 
more firewood and the tar barrels they 
brought caused the flames to shoot high into 
the air, filling the air with sparks that threat- 
ened to fire the buildings. Gordon, who over- 
took the Pi Sig players on the fringe of the 
bonfire took in the situation at a glance and 
elbowed his way into the center of the howl- 
ing ring. 

“Nine rahs for the coach! Speech! 
Speech ! ^ ’ they shouted when they recognized 
Gordon. The cheers were given, then the 
head coach mounted a barrel and asked: 

“Will you fellows do as I tell youT’ 

“We sure will!^’ replied a half dozen, 
speaking in representation of all. 

“Then let this fire burn out before you 
burn down the town, and save your cele- 
bration until you get on your own stamping 
grounds. You know the Hilton crowd out- 
numbers you two to one and is too sore over 


‘‘THE REAL LEADER” 


237 


the game to stand for this open celebration 
without a scrap. I won’t have the college 
disgraced with a free-for-all fight. Break 
up, fellows, break up ! ” 

With a last cheer, the crowd began to split 
and drift away singing : 

“Hail to the Grey and Crimson! 

Hail to the men who wear it, 

Their fame narrate! 

Hail to the Grey and Crimson ! 

Ne’er be afraid to air it, 

Ever be proud to bear it ; 

Hail ! Hail ! The Grey and Crimson ! 

All hail ! the men who wear it — 
Champions of the State!” 

Gordon stood looking after the departing 
throng which was now swaying from side to 
side in the fantastic serpentine dance. 

“I wish I were young enough to start over 
in college again,” he laughed as he joined 
the trio and clapped a hand on Joe’s shoul- 
der. “Do you boys realize you are heroes?” 

Joe glared reproachfully at Gordon. 

“Coach, if you were not so light that it 
would be a shame to hit you, I’d poke my 
fist clear through your leather lungs,” 
he threatened. 


238 LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


^^You needn’t take it that hard,” the fa- 
mous coach responded. ^ ‘ Seriously, you boys 
played great ball. You’ll begin to realize 
that at least when you read the papers to- 
morrow. It’s an even shot that all three of 
you will be mentioned on the all-State selec- 
tions, even this bit of glassware I was afraid 
to have handled without care. He was al- 
most the surprise of the day. Well, let’s get 
ready to eat. We’ll want to finish early, just 
as soon as we can satisfy our appetites and 
elect a captain. The big blow-out will come 
next Wednesday night. The press agent of 
the Grand has reserved the boxes at his 
theater and I told him we would be on hand to 
outshine the Hilton team. ’ ’ 

Within fifteen minutes all of the squad had 
trooped into the hotel, and the boys’ appe- 
tites were not kept unsatisfied. A small din- 
ing-room was reserved for them, to give 
them privacy for what business the team in- 
tended to transact; but aside from the elec- 
tion of the next year’s captain there was 
nothing to be taken up, all the speech-mak- 
ing being reserved with the general celebra- 
tion next week in the Rockwood gynmasium 


‘^THE REAL LEADER” 


239 


when alumni and members of the faculty were 
also admitted. After the waiters had cleared 
the table and retired, the head coach arose 
at the end of the table. 

Fellows, there isn’t much to say at just- 
this time,” he began. don’t want to 
take time for a review of the game, and it is 
hardly justice to the entire team to hit only 
the high spots in my praise. There was not 
a man on the team who didn’t play magnifi- 
cent ball in the last twenty-five minutes. 
But you know who it was who made both 
touchdowns. 

‘^It was hard luck Captain Leonard could 
not last throughout the game, but Pierce took 
his place with the right kind of spirit and 
‘Glassware Wallie’ came to bat like a true 
pinch-hitter. Fourteen letters will be 
awarded at chapel next Thursday and none 
of you are to bolt that performance because 
you have stage fright. You know who com- 
poses the regular eleven, and can add to that 
the names of Rogers, Williams, and Spence. 
Wallie, I have mentioned already; Williams 
also deserves mention, because he plugged 
with the right spirit even against the doc- 


240 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

tor^s orders; Spence did commendable work 
and will bold down a tackle next year if be 
bits tbe same speed. 

We ’ll need a second tackle to fill ont with 
‘Jovial Jake’ after Edwards graduates, be- 
cause Burke bas to stay at full. He bas 
won bis permanent borne there. Tbe rest 
of tbe second-string men will be rewarded 
with tbe reserve ‘R’ sweaters. Now let’s 
bear from tbe captain.” 

Gordon sat down, and Leonard rose stiffly 
at tbe foot of tbe table, steadying bimself 
by bis cbair. A cbeer greeted bim, but be 
waved for silence and was allowed to talk. 

“Boys, I’m not there on tbe oratorical fire- 
works, but I do want to say a few words. 
I want to thank you for tbe way you have 
worked this season, every one of you first- 
string and even more you second-string 
subs as well as tbe regulars. It is tbe faith- 
ful, unappreciated scrub who makes tbe win- 
ning team when you get down to brass tacks. 
He gets no thanks from tbe great majority, 
no cheers from tbe stands, no return ex- 
cept tbe mere satisfaction of having done an 
obscure, but invaluable service for tbe col- 


‘‘THE EEAL LEADER’^ 


241 


lege. I’m glad the coach is giving so many 
second ^R’ sweaters to you boys. I hope 
every one of you will wear the block ‘R’ be- 
fore you play your last game here. 

‘ ‘ The last game of my college career closed 
with the whistle this afternoon. It was the 
hardest I ever played in, the hardest I ever 
saw. The fact we won is due to all of you 
of course, but Larry was the boy who is 
mainly responsible. Let me say right here 
we made an eighteen-carat full-back when 
Gordon shunted him into that position. 
Some day I expect to read his name in the 
All-American selections. He’s the best man 
on the team to-day barring none of the vet- 
erans, even if he is only a sophomore. Fel- 
lows, we should recognize that fact to-night 
in picking the captain for next year. I nom- 
inate Burke for captain next season.” 

Let’s not have any farce about putting 
up any other name, ” growled Plugger Brown. 
‘‘Every one knows Larry is entitled to it. I 
say make it unanimous.” 

“ That’s what I say,” spoke up Edwards, 
and similar expressions came from around 
the table. 


242 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


‘‘All in favor of making it unanimous will 
signify it by the usual sign,’’ called Leon- 
ard. 

The chorus of ayes left no doubt as to the 
general will. 

“Speech! Speech!” came the general cry, 
and the captain of a minute before yielded 
place to the leader of the future. At a loss 
for words to express his appreciation of the 
unusual honor, Larry rose slowly. 

“Boys, you shouldn’t have done it,” he 
stated simply. Howls of protest met this 
opinion, then he went on: 

“That’s right. All your talk is dead 
wrong. In winning that game, nobody did 
enough more than any one else to deserve the 
credit for it. The team won, that’s all. But 
it’s pure presumption and foolishness for a 
sophomore to stand up here and try to tell 
some of you seniors more about the game 
than you know. I can’t thank you enough 
for the captaincy. It is ’way over my 
head to grasp what you have done in 
giving it to me; but I’ll work to the 
limit to try to make things go. Losing 
Captain Leonard, Pierce, Edwards, and Gar- 


^^THE REAL LEADER” 


243 


ner will cut a wide swath in the team; but 
Hilton will lose even more veterans and Gor- 
don will turn out another winner if any coach 
can do it. We all know that.’’ 

He paused, trying to catch a new thread 
of thought. Gordon caught his eye and 
flashed him a laughing query : 

‘‘How does it feel to be a hero?” 

Every one laughed, and this broke the 
strain. 

“By advice of counsel, I refuse to answer 
that question,” countered Larry, with a 
chuckle. “But I’ll tell you of one thing you 
may never have suspected. Did you know I 
was in such a state of nerves I almost de- 
serted the field after that second touchdown? 
There the score was tied, and I had to kick 
goal to get the next point. I was so shaky I 
didn’t dare look up into the stands. I knew 
the boys were sitting on air, and would never 
forgive me unless that ball went square be- 
tween the posts. If I had missed I think I’d 
simply have lit out and run, and never dared 
to show my face to a Rockwood student again. 
Boys, the fellow who made a victory out of 
that tie game was Wallie Rogers who held 


244 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the ball so I bad to kick it straight. I say 
it^s only right to give the freshman his 
due. ^ ’ 

Under cover of the cheering, Larry slipped 
into his seat with a thankful sigh of relief, 
and with a final ^Varsity yell the party broke 
up and headed for the theater. 

Their entrance at the playhouse was her- 
alded with a warm outburst, but the team 
sought quick refuge in the boxes, decorated 
up to the brass rail with crimson and grey 
streamers, and turned away from the crowd, 
hoping the curtain would lift and call atten- 
tion away from the boxes. 

Two minutes later the Hilton eleven 
streamed into the opposite side, with just as 
elaborate a setting of dark green pennants 
and wall banners. Unintelligible din broke 
out from the rival sections in the house from 
the orchestra circle to the gallery. The 
only thing to be clearly distinguished for 
the time was the measured counting in sledge- 
hammer cadence up to eleven for Hilton, and 
then to twelve for Rockwood. A good-nat- 
ured silence succeeded this, and the orches- 
tra took advantage of it to make itself heard. 


‘^THE EEAL LEADEE” 


245 


The announcement of a football night had 
packed the house with people who would 
scarcely have taken interest in the musical 
comedy otherwise, and lent a clamorous en- 
thusiasm even to many who had never strolled 
across a campus. In many ways the show 
was a lucky choice. For one thing, the open- 
ing scene showed a row of dormitory win- 
dows, filled with a pretty chorus which waved 
the rival pennants in response to the thun- 
derous applause. It was impossible for the 
leading man to sing the opening number, but 
he gamely stepped to the front and led the 
two college yells as if he liked the interrup- 
tion. Then the star and the audience hurled 
‘^Eahs!’’ back and forth until the play was 
temporarily forgotten. 

A little tenor who was familiar with one 
of the old Eockwood songs came out and sang 
a favorite chorus : 

‘^Oh, we know you are the best, 

In the East or in the West, 

And naught else shall ever grow so dear to me : 
I may wander the world o’er. 

But I’ll dream forevermore — 

Of that dear old college by the inland sea ! ’ ’ 


246 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


This might have referred to either univer- 
sity, but every one knew it came from the 
mellow twilight of Rockwood ^s founding, and 
the Green contingent demanded something 
partisan. The prima donna responded in this 
emergency by singing the chorus of the Hilton 
’Varsity song which the press agent had 
asked her to memorize for an emergency. 
Then with other data furnished by students 
in the cafe where the press agent had dined 
she sang a clever little parody on, ‘ ‘ Has Any- 
body Here Seen Kelly ’ the chorus of which 
was: 

‘ ‘ Has anybody here seen Larry ? L-A-double R-Y ? 

Anybody here seen Larry ? 

You can tell him by his smile. 

His hair ’s not red, but his eyes are blue. 

He is Irish, through and through. 

Anybody here seen Larry? 

The kicker who can punt a mile ! ’ ’ 

Any lameness in the parody was charitably 
passed over, while cheers followed for Larry, 
then for Weeds, for Rockwood, for Hilton, for 
the prima donna who had come on out of 
turn to entertain them, for everything and 


“THE REAL LEADER’’ 


247 


everybody. It was a delightful display of 
good-nature on every hand and the Hilton 
supporters in the house forgot their defeat 
and joined in, declaring the show a knock- 
out.’’ 

The chorus girls tied their choice of the col- 
lege ribbons to their elbows and came out to 
be showered with roses with which the man- 
agement had conveniently stocked the boxes. 
Tied up with knots of ribbon the roses were 
worn in the chorus girls ’ belts during the rest 
of the evening. Every one declared it good 
fun, and so long as all the sport was so 
plainly enjoyed, the actors did not mourn 
lost lines or lack of chance to put the plot 
interest to the fore. By the time the first 
act was ended, even the bald-headed leader 
of the orchestra had been rejuvenated with 
the spirit of youth and let first one side then 
the other select the songs to be played during 
the intermission, being furnished with all the 
college songs of both universities. 

When the orchestra drifted into the strains 
of the oldest of all Rockwood songs the Crim- 
son and Grey students and alumni with one 


248 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


accord rose and stood at attention, following 
in memory tlie words which went with the 
swinging melody: 

‘‘Here’s to the college whose colors we wear, 
And here’s to the hearts that are gay. 

Nothing from Her our love could tear. 

Should we be near, or far away — 

Here’s to the college whose colors we wear, 
The glorious Crimson and Grey!” 

Then everyone united in singing the stein 
song, full of tender memories for all of them. 
When the last curtain had fallen, every one 
was hoarse with shouting, and weak with 
laughter. Larry was especially worn out 
with excitement combined with the fatigue of 
the game which settled upon him soon after 
he boarded the over-heated traction special 
which took the team home. He was almost 
asleep at times listening to the steady mono- 
tone of Edwards playing over the game in 
memory with Jacobson. 

When Larry reached home, however, with 
Joe and Wallie, he was soon aroused by the 
warmth of the welcome which every one in 
the chapter house accorded him, to show how 
delighted all were at the honor one of their 


‘‘THE READ LEADER’’ 


249 


number bad received. It was like the re- 
ception Larry remembered being given 
“Grindy’’ Morris last spring, when he reaped 
the high scholarship prize and made Phi Beta 
Kappa in the same day, or the celebration 
given Long Dan when he was re-elected cap- 
tain of the crew. 

But the hour was late, and soon the jubilee 
broke up. With stifled yawns the boys be- 
gan to climb the stairs and soon most of the 
rooms were dark. Ned and Larry took their 
usual shower and jumped into pajamas, but 
discovered with surprise that they had lost 
the weariness of an hour before. 

“I^m not at all sleepy, wife; ITl race you 
around the block,’’ joked Larry. 

“Why not propose a little swimming party 
in the lake?” inquired Ned with a shiver, as 
he pulled aside the curtain far enough to 
look out into the storm which still raged 
without cessation. “No, I’m not that insane, 
but I will sneak down into an easy chair be- 
fore that grate fire in the front parlor for 
a good old-fashioned chat.” 

“Here’s where I call the bluff,” was his 
roommate’s reply, and Larry slipped on his 


250 LAERY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


bath-robe, pulled on a pair of moccasins given 
him by the Indian guide on the summer trip, 
and headed for the stairway. 

Down in front of the grate they found 
Silent Dave, still engrossed with his transla- 
tion of the old Anglo-Saxon ^‘Beowulf,’’ dili- 
gently priming himself for his Monday lec- 
ture. 

Don’t suppose you know I was just read- 
ing how you won that game this afternoon T’ 
he queried, quizzically smiling at the new 
captain. 

Nonsense. Football wasn’t invented 
then.” 

‘^No, but glorious scraps were; and with 
the same spirit. You remember how Beo- 
wulf ^raging and battle-fierce’ put on his bat- 
tle sark, grabbed his shield and sword and 
went down into the mere to kill the monster 
sea-wolf Grendel? Don’t laugh; but when 
you flung away your broken head-guard and 
went into the Hilton line, it seemed to me 
that I could stand the two up side by side. 
The circumstances weren’t the same, but the 
spirit was. That’s the big thing it seems to 


251 


REAL LEADER’’ 

me in the game. But listen to this a minute ; 

<< ^When he found the battle-gleamer 
would not bite he in no wise lost courage. 
In wrath the warrior threw aside the chased 
sword: he trusted to his strength, to the 
might of his hand grip. So must a man do 
if he thinketh to reach in battle enduring 
fame.’ ” 

‘^So must he do to win in football the next 
year’s captaincy,” paraphrased Ned. 

^‘Cut it, fellows. Shut up both of you or 
I’ll punch both your heads,” responded 
Larry. ‘‘Dave, that’s the longest speech I 
ever heard you make. ’ ’ 

“Oh, well, even I forget myself sometimes 
when I get enthusiastic.” 

Seated cross-legged on the floor, chin on 
knees and arms wrapped around their shins, 
Ned and Larry buried their toes under a 
warm fur rug and fell into reminiscent 
moods. 

The ruddy glow of the fire brightened their 
clean cut faces, while it cast grotesque shad- 
ows against the walls and ceiling. They for- 
got the moaning of the wind out of doors, the 


252 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


dark mass of trees or the knee-deep snow 
as they went back over their Labrador expe- 
dition, calling up the smell of the fresh, damp 
forest with its wood smoke and perfume of 
solemn spruce, the silent mystery of distant 
ranges, or the first glimpse of the borealis 
flaming across the sky. 

sure want to try that again,’’ declared 
Larry. “It’s the finest thing I’ve hit yet. 
This time, Ned, we’ll want to go with Dad 
Russell clear through to Ungava Bay.” 

“The farthest north I’ve been is just over 
the Canadian border, ’ ’ ventured Silent Dave, 
“but it will have to go some to beat my own 
little Colorado valley. Have you ever seen 
those deep, rich colors close in on the big 
hills slow and easy when the evening gets 
late, and felt that cool breeze that always 
comes down when the valley gets a little 
dark? Believe me, that’s the greatest place 
to live in that was ever discovered on this 
earth. ’ ’ 

The two sophomores were discreetly silent, 
thinking of the strange love for the country 
Dave had retained in spite of the early 


“THE REAL LEADER’^ 


253 


deaths of his parents and a sister, which 
forced the management of their ranch upon 
the hoy when he was only fourteen years 
old. They thought how he had struggled 
along until he laid aside money enough to go 
through college. All at once they began to 
appreciate the value he put on the education 
he was giving himself. Ned was glad he, 
himself, was earning most of his own ex- 
penses as manager of the Rockwood maga- 
zine. Somehow Larry’s abrupt jump in the 
conversations did not seem any far cry when 
he said : 

^^Ned, I am just waking up to a full ap- 
preciation of the opportunities we have here, 
the things that Corwin and some of the other 
boys are giving a whole lot of work every 
day to get. All these libraries and labora- 
tories, professors and friends, text books and 
lectures can’t educate us. We have to do 
that for ourselves, in this atmosphere with all 
these advantages, or else outside without 
them. It just strikes me we’ve spent too 
much time scrawling pictures in our note- 
books and dropping oft to sleep like the 


254 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


average undergraduate. What do you say 
to waking up and hustling'?” 

It’s a go,” Ned returned, quickly. ^^I’ll 
go a step farther with you. Instead of tak- 
ing that snap course in Astronomy A. next 
semester. I’ll agree to take up that stitf pub- 
lic-speaking grind. I don’t know that either 
of us will ever he orators, but it is a useful 
stunt to bolster up our weakest points. 
You’ll see it through with me, won’t you, 
even to entering the debates'?” 

Larry nodded. Dave took up the subject 
again. 

‘‘That’s what college has meant to me for 
a long while,” he remarked. “I guess it has 
been because I am older than most of the 
boys and studied at things from a different 
angle. There is another thing you haven’t 
touched on, but that we are illustrating this 
very minute, the fact this is the best place in 
the world to learn friendship and be bene- 
fited by it in proportion as you are a friend 
to the next fellow.” 

“It’s a shame all of the boys can’t be 
gathered into some such organization as 
this,” burst in Ned impetuously. “Friend- 


“THE REAL LEADER” 255 

ship is the greatest thing in the world, let 
alone simply in college. It is too bad there 
is no prospect of some organization where all 
the men in the university can get together 
and understand each other. If there had 
been such a thing we would never have made 
the mistake we did with ‘Spider’ Forrest. 
But I suppose such things can’t be avoided 
after all.” 

“Yes, they can,” returned Larry. “And 
we three are going to work pretty hard dur- 
ing our college courses to see that they are. 
You know Professor Hecht’s idea of the 
College Union. It’s the best idea possible, 
and we are going to help him push it for all 
we are worth.” 

Ned peered reflectively into the blue flames 
dancing over the red ashes in the open grate, 
replying slowly: 

“Leonard was right when he called you a 
real leader. Joe told us of that. I’m aw- 
fully afraid so many compliments in one 
night will puff you up with pride like a poi- 
soned pup, still I’m forced to admit they 
might be true.” 


CHAPTER XI 


THE SOPH COTILLIOH 

Fob the next few weeks the students 
buckled down to work to get as much as pos- 
sible done before the Christmas vacation ar- 
rived. Except for basket-ball practice two 
nights a week, Ned and Larry dropped ath- 
letic training for the time being. Both de- 
voted themselves to study faithfully, taking 
turns with Nat Fisher in tutoring Chang 
Morgan who was the only one of the fresh- 
men having a hard time with his studies. 
All of Ned’s spare moments during the day 
were used in hustling up advertising for the 
college magazine, or busying himself with 
some other details of its management. 

Larry’s extra minutes were put in agita- 
ting for the College Union, in accordance with 
the plans in which Professor Hecht had tried 
to interest the students. His first mission- 
ary work was done at home, in getting the 
Pi Sig upperclassmen to see the real need 
256 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


257 


of an open club in which independents and 
fraternity men, ‘‘grinds’^ and more care- 
free students, college sports, and members 
of the Y. M. C. A., would all feel equally at 
home, a place where all could meet and come 
to understand and like each other. Long 
Dan was the first of the seniors to be fired 
with the new spirit, and as chairman of the 
senior council he pushed the movement as 
Larry had not the influence to do. In a short 
time he came to be recognized as the leader. 

Sammy Gardiner, with all his happy-go- 
lucky thoughtlessness then started an agita- 
tion in the junior class. But the sophomores, 
headed by Henderson and Larry, were the 
first to take official recognition of the pro- 
posed union by pledging themselves to meet 
one-fourth the rent of a suitable club house, 
out of the class dues. The seniors, the 
juniors, and the freshmen all followed suit. 
The faculty made up a liberal sum for fur- 
nishings. The Crimson and Grey, the stu- 
dent daily, opened up a fund to buy addi- 
tional furniture and half the men in college 
made donations. In behalf of the university. 
President Builton persuaded the trustees to 


258 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


vote money enough to stock the clubrooms 
with an excellent library of more popular 
books than were contained in the college li- 
brary, and with metropolitan papers and 
magazines. 

All loose threads were gathered up when 
the senior council called a mass meeting in 
the gynmasium and a committee of five was 
elected with power to act for all the organi- 
zations. Professor Hecht was the only mem- 
ber of the faculty put on, a member from 
each of the four classes filling out the number. 
Ned was much disappointed because Larry 
was not chosen by his class; but his room- 
mate laughed him out of his anger, saying 
that all he wished was to see the movement 
thrive, and that it was better to get some 
one else interested in the leadership because 
there was always plenty of work for the fol- 
lowers and fewer volunteers. 

Within two weeks after that night when 
Dave, Ned, and Larry had resolved to start 
the movement, a prominent banker in the 
town, who was an alumnus, turned over for 
club purposes one of his houses bordering 
on the campus, refusing to accept more than 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


259 


one-third of its former rental, and donating 
this for maintenance to meet the expenses 
of heating and lighting. 

Another week gave time for preparation 
for the opening night. The Pi Sigs pro- 
vided an orchestra for the occasion, one of 
the debating clubs volunteered a comedy en- 
tertainer, the Y. M. C. A. supplied fruit, 
sandwiches, and cotfee, and the Delts prof- 
fered their freshmen pledges as waiters. 
All of the other fraternity and non-frater- 
nity groups found something to do to make 
the evening a jollification that would appeal 
to every man in college. 

Every one had caught the true spirit of 
the union, and many who had scarcely 
nodded to each other on the street cemented 
acquaintanceships which grew from that day 
into riper understanding and sympathy. 
For the first time in any general gathering 
of the students, the man who worked his way 
through college by firing furnaces or clerk- 
ing in the student co-operative store was 
placed on a social equality with the more 
fortunate hoy who was privileged to dash 
about the campus in his own automobile. 


260 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


There were speeches, of course, but none 
of them without humor and interest for all. 
With few exceptions, it was generally under- 
stood who was mainly responsible for the 
success of the undertaking; but they were 
not bored to death with open praise. Larry 
was the greatest exception. The fact his 
part in the cause was not generally recog- 
nized made Ned especially peeved, but the 
sophomore athlete himself was genuinely 
pleased to have been overlooked. Since his 
election to the football captaincy he had met 
with more fuss than he enjoyed especially at 
the time sweaters were presented at chapel. 
At times he longed to be ignored again as he 
had been in his first few months as a fresh- 
man. 

Much of Larry ^s interest during the last 
few weeks had been devoted to getting under 
Silent Dave^s reserve and coming to know 
his heart, which Ned declared was ‘‘as big 
as his ears, and those are as big as a barn.’’ 

Dave had worked like a Trojan to see the 
College Union through to a finish, and in his 
quiet way was making his influence felt 
throughout the student body as few fresh- 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


261 


men ever had done. There were a hundred 
things he did in college or out, that no one 
ever heard mentioned; but one night when 
Larry broke into the room the taciturn 
freshman shared with Nat Fisher, and found 
him addressing a package to his home val- 
ley in Colorado he learned of one instance. 
While the sophomore had intended merely 
to borrow a bottle of ink, he saw Dave was in 
a sociable mood and sat down to visit a 
while. With a little diplomacy he finally got 
the quiet story that explained the box. 

^‘It isn’t quite Christmas time, I know,” 
said the freshman, with a smile. ^‘But you 
know how the express companies and the 
mail service fall behind in their deliveries 
and this has to be there before Christmas. 
It’s going to an old widow, a neighbor of 
mine out there, who hasn’t received so much 
as a postal in years, even if she does go to 
the post-office every day. You see her son 
was blown up in the Maine down in Havana 
harbor; but she won’t believe the govern- 
ment report of his death and insists he will 
write to her some day. Every afternoon 
she comes to the delivery window and asks 


262 LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

Zeb if her letter is in yet, and he tells her 
it hasn ’t come, but maybe it will be in to-mor- 
row. 

^‘He used to try to discourage her, but it 
didn’t have any effect, so now he thinks it 
is kinder to give her something to look 
forward to, and invents all sorts of stories 
after he has studied up in a geography so he 
can picture where the boy might be — over in 
Java, or Japan, or any one of a hundred 
places, working on some merchantman and 
simply too busy to write at the time. It 
cheers her up wonderfully and actually gives 
her something to live for. I guess Zeb will 
be even more surprised than she will when 
a bit of mail comes to her, even if it isn’t 
from her son.” 

That story took hold of Larry, and when 
he tried to resume his differential calculus 
lesson, he found he could think only of some 
of the employes of his father’s steel mill 
whom he could cheer with an application of 
Silent Dave’s Christmas spirit. He mapped 
out a program to carry out when he left ten 
days later to spend the holidays in Burke- 
ton. 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


263 


But only a small part of the Pi Sigs’ time 
was spent in thoughtful schemes like these. 
All were too much alive and normal to stick 
to anything at all serious very long at a time. 
The appeal of the ice-boating and skating 
season, for one thing, called them out of 
doors when lectures were finished. They 
came back glowing with health and hungry 
as bears. Occasionally Ned and Larry took 
a hand in ice-hockey, but they did not devote 
enough energy to it to make the ^Varsity 
team. 

Often a raw, sharp wind drove the crisp, 
thin, powdery snow across the glaring sur- 
face of the ice ; but this never kept the lower 
end of Lake Crystal from being thronged 
with warmly clad, merry skaters whose 
voices rang out cheerily beneath the low 
grey clouds. All the boys who had taken 
part in the mock trial were glad to see 
Lionel Forrest, now generally called 
‘^Spider,” make good at cover-point on 
the ’Varsity team, even if the seven was 
badly defeated by the Hilton and Whiting 
teams. 

On the way back from the lake one after- 


264 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


noon the Pi Sig and the Beta freshmen were 
caught in a moist, sticky snow. The Beta 
Mil Epsilon house was directly across the 
street, and so the two crowds separated at 
the corner. It was only natural that one of 
the Betas should bounce a snowball off Happy 
Reynold’s ear at a distance of twenty yards 
and even more natural that Happy should 
knock off the hat of the friendly Beta with 
a similar missile. 

In one minute the air was thick with snow- 
balls. Shouts of laughter from both sides 
whenever one landed brought first spectators 
and then re-inforcements. The Belts, al- 
though the closest rivals of the Pi Sigs were 
on the same side of the street and became 
their strongest allies. The Lambs and Chi 
Betas similarly joined forces with the enemy, 
and a score of students going to or from the 
campus took an impartial hand in the battle 
royal. 

In preparation for a sudden sortie the 
Beta aggregation manufactured a wheelbar- 
row full of snowballs to be used in putting 
the other line to rout; but, by a concerted 
rush, the Pi Sigs captured the wheelbarrow 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


265 


and their skirmish line drove the others to 
cover with their own ammunition. 

Such little incidents helped to keep seniors 
and freshmen alike ready for any fun which 
might be unearthed. 

When the time came for the annual initia- 
tion banquet to be held, the Pi Sigs delegated 
Gardiner to draft an invitation that would 
bring back the alumni with the spirit of 
youth in their hearts. With not a little 
pride Sammy announced a quarter of an 
hour later that he had written ‘^a classic 
that would draw like a porous plaster.’^ 
When properly urged, he read solemnly : 

^^Come to our killing. We have six sleek 
freshmen, milk-fed, corn-fattened during 
rushing season, and now in prime condition. 
After putting them over the jumps, we will 
round them up and drive them into the 
slaughter pen at eight-thirty, Friday. We 
dine on the choicest morsels as soon as the 
beeves can be dressed. Flesh and bones for 
the most ravenous to snarl over, will be pro- 
vided with suitable sprigs of green. Be- 
lieve us, brethren, this bounteous banquet is 
bound to beat all others to a black-eyed fraz- 


266 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


zle. There will be fun, frivolity, mirth, mer- 
riment, and music. Our quartet alone is so 
bubbling over with effervescent melody that 
it won’t need to add a drop of liquid joy, 
which is going some for quartets in an otf 
season like this. Every class will supply 
some stunt to entertain the children. The 
juniors have evolved one that is colossal, 
mammoth, stupendous, monumental, tran- 
scendental — ” 

A howl of protest came from the seniors 
that Sammy should mention his own class 
first. As soon as any one could be heard 
Ralph Turner moved to strike out the adjec- 
tives applying to the junior stunt. That 
class rose in righteous rage to defend its 
name. The battle surged up and down the 
alphabet for five minutes, then Stubby sum- 
moned energy enough to mount the piano 
bench and command attention. At his sug- 
gestion an editing committee, all seniors, was 
finally appointed to go over the invitation 
and blue-pencil all expressions that could 
offend any one present or any alumnus who 
would be mailed a copy. 

Such fpolish wrangles, amounting to 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


267 


nothing in themselves, took on a delightfully 
comical manner when the wit of the boys 
was given full play. The mere admonition 
to one of the freshmen, to ‘^ship his oar^^ — 
take his spoon from his coffee — would serve 
to bring on a verbal war that might end in 
a laughable penalty being handed out by an 
executive session of the star chamber com- 
mittee. The man who wore a sweater to 
dinner or attempted to wield a toothpick 
afterward was sure to meet with a fine that 
every one could share. 

After the first flash of a toothpick Stubby 
posted a general edict on the bulletin board 
maintained at the head of the upper hall. It 
read: 

‘^Freshmen, Attention! Warning is here- 
by given that the public exhibition of tooth- 
picks in action, wooden, quill, or otherwise, 
is strictly forbidden. All who insist upon 
using them will hereafter perform their den- 
tal evacuations in private where the abom- 
ination in the sight of the student body will 
be forgiven. Violence will be used if neces- 
sary to uphold discipline.^’ 

It was just before the approaching holi- 
day vacation, the soph cotillion, ranking di- 


268 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


rectly after tlie junior prom as the biggest 
social event of the college year, was held. 
For weeks the preliminary arrangements had 
been planned, partners had been obtained 
and dance programs had been looked after, 
and students already loaded with Christ- 
mas debts had been wondering how to meet 
this necessary outlay. All the Pi Sig upper- 
classmen had long since filled their cards for 
the big dance and had taken a hand in seeing 
the freshmen were well cared for. As Jane 
Dale had accepted Larry’s invitation, and 
her popularity was general all over the 
campus, he had no trouble to select the most 
prominent men in college to trade with for 
dances. In lectures he had passed over his 
preliminary program to his closest pals out- 
side of the chapter, after reserving five or six 
choice numbers for himself; and at the fra- 
ternity house the boys had besieged him for 
dances after his card was filled. 

Being chairman of the decoration commit- 
tee, Larry had his busy time the day before 
the atfair. He waited until after the last 
‘‘physical torture” class had left the floor, 
then cleared the gymnasium of all apparatus. 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


269 


as it was traditional this annual event should 
be held in the gymnasium. Then the sopho- 
mores under his direction began doing won- 
ders with festoons of gay crimson and grey 
cheese-cloth draped over the rafters. 

Pennants, pillows, athletic trophies, and 
palms imparted an air to the gymnasium no 
one had seen there before. Electricians 
were called in to do the wiring for hundreds 
of bulbs that completed the transformation. 
The next morning the floor was waxed, and 
florists put the finishing touches to the ar- 
tistic walls. With a sigh of relief, Larry 
turned away from the scene. His part was 
done. 

That it was well done was attested by the 
amazement of the girls when they entered 
for the promenade after putting the last 
touches to their creations in the dressing 
room. Most of them had seen these same 
walls gayly decorated for other social events, 
but never had the place been so exquisitely 
draped before. 

An excellent orchestra, brought two hun- 
dred miles for this occasion, swung into the 
opening strains of the music. Larry forgot 


270 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


almost everything then, and set ont to have 
the time of his life. It made little difference 
to him that his decorations afforded one of 
the surprises of the evening, that the gov- 
ernor’s wife was among the patronesses, that 
this and that and the other was exciting at- 
tention from society reporters for metro- 
politan dailies. It was enough to recall that 
as one of the committee chairmen, he was 
given a place near the chairman of the gen- 
eral cotillion committee, and that Miss Dale 
was beside him, enjoying the evening even 
more than he was himself. 

To one who had not been there, the events 
of even the Rockwood soph cotillion might 
sound dull and flat. On the next day Larry 
refused to attempt an elaborate description 
for his sister in his letter home, hut he re- 
tained pleasant memories of it for weeks 
afterward. 

The mere chronicling of the way one es- 
corts his partner to a seat and rushes off to 
find and present the stranger who is to have 
the second dance, sounds like any college af- 
fair, as would certainly the inevitable jam 
at the refreshment counter where fault- 



>ris.s Dale was beside him, enjoying the evening even more than 

HE WAS HIMSELF. — Page 270. 


t 



* r ■ 



f '1 


.i 








* 

* 


/• 


y 


\ 


4 


I 


« 


I 


% 


rs 




» 



t , • 


i 


k 


I 




« 

I - ’ 

1 

I t 


r 


, » * 



, « 


t 


; »* 

\ 

* I • 

» 



THE SOPH COTILLION 


271 


lessly attired knights wilt their collars in the 
mad desire to win ices, salads, and napkins 
in the tilt. Even the last buoyant, romping, 
furious dance, the best one of all, had to end 
at length and Larry called his carriage and 
drove off with his partner into the paling 
dawn, the lilting strains of the orchestra 
dying out behind them. 

That is where dances end, unless you 
count as part of them, the way they are 
talked over for the next two hours wherever 
groups gather as they always did in the Pi 
Sig parlors, forgetful of beds so long as they 
had the singing of praises at hand. After 
listening to Stubby and Steve enter their 
partners in the race for divinity, only to be 
outdistanced in turn by the respective god- 
desses of Alan Baldwin, Steve Mitchell, Alf 
Eeade, Paul Eaymond, Joe Stanley, Bruin 
Bear, Nat Fisher, Chang Morgan, and Happy 
Eeynolds, Larry remained silent but uncon- 
vinced. He looked at Sammy and then at 
Ned, but they were warming up to the theme 
and were good for another half-hour. With 
a grin at Silent Dave he hooked his arm into 
that of the freshman and silently stole away 


272 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


up stairs. The crowd was still at the dis- 
cussion when they came down for break- 
fast. 

There was no mistaking the holiday and 
vacation spirit in the air. Members of the 
chapter were busy packing suit-cases and 
borrowing money to get home. Out of the 
confusion a medley of shouts arose: 

‘‘When are you going, OllieT’ 

‘ ‘ Sam, oh, Sam ! May I steal your second 
suit-case for my medic books? I’m going 
to do an awful pile of poling while I’m home 
— ^if I only get time.” 

“Say, who’s rich enough to lend me a 
couple of jitneys? After buying my ticket 
I have just one cent for periodicals, refresh- 
ment, tips and general reserve fund; I’ll 
have to have two bits for the porter.” 

“Oh, fresh, have you called up the livery 
yet and told them to call for my trunk 
early?” 

“Hey, does anybody know when that 10:15 
train goes north this morning?” 

“Fresh, answer the telephone, and if she 
is on the line tell her — needn’t mind I’ll tell 
her myself.” 


THE SOPH COTILLION 


273 


‘‘Yes, Prof, says: ‘The French Parlia- 
ment sat for more than a year on nothing bnt 
judicial business. ’ And Ralph said ; ‘ That ’s 
hardly substantial enough — ’ ’’ 

“Ring otf that shop talk, you two. Vaca- 
tion started at eight o’clock this morning. 
Forget it.” 

“Then, Prof, says: ‘It’s always better to 
cut the leaves of the text hook in reading it 
through, because then it makes me think that 
you have prepared yourself for — ’ ” 

“Say, you two, any more reminders of 
mere work and you freshies get a cold tub- 
bing. Answer the door one of you.” 

“No one has volunteered that two bits 
yet.” 

“Well, if I had an income of a thousand 
a minute I couldn’t keep you in matches for 
three seconds.” 

“Oh, yes, I’d not forget that. Shortest 
speech he ever made. Uh-huh. ‘The stu- 
dents spend $150 a year on the Y. M. C. A., 
$15 on foreign missions and $15,000 on for- 
mal parties. Let us pray.’ ” 

“Cold tub for you, now; that’s the third 
offense. Happy, turn the cold water on. 


274 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Give you three minutes, Chang, to get ready, 
then you ^11 go in, clothes or no clothes.’’ 

‘^No you don’t, there’s my cab now. 
Good-bye! So long, everybody! Yes, I’ve 
got everything except books — and money. 
Good-bye, and Merry Christmas!” 

Larry came down the stairway to find Si- 
lent Dave standing on the landing gazing 
regretfully after the departing cab. Sud- 
denly it smote the sophomore that the West- 
erner had no relatives to whom he could go 
to spend a merry Christmas. 

^^Dave,” he said, ‘‘there is something I 
want you to do for me. Will you promise be- 
fore I tell you what it is?” 

“Why, surely; you wouldn’t ask anything 
I couldn’t do.” 

“It’s just this: come home with me to 
spend the holidays. Ned and I live side by 
each there in Burketon, you know, and we’d 
be tickled to death to have you.” 

“Yes, thanks, old boy; that would be splen- 
did. Ah, now, it wouldn’t do either, Larry, 
you see no one would be expecting a stranger ; 
it would be an intrusion at this time of the 
year. Some other time, may be.” 


.THE SOPH COTILLION 


275 


‘‘You^re not a stranger, IVe written reams 
about you and the folks will be as glad to 
have you as I am. I could never forgive you 
for making yourself lonely in this house 
without a soul in hailing distance. They call 
this whole town Hhe deserted village’ when 
the students are gone. Besides, you haven’t 
any right to object, you’re only a freshman 
and have to mind the orders you get. Go on 
up and pack your suit-case. ’ ’ 

With a hand-shake that expressed more 
than words. Silent Dave smilingly trudged 
up the stairs. 

^‘Well, there’s one little return from his 
own example,” mused the sophomore. ^‘I 
believe I am beginning to understand the 
spirit of Christmas.” 


CHAPTEE Xn 


THE LAST HAZING 

The lean days of any college year are 
those which come after the Christmas and 
New Year’s vacation, when students are 
brought to the realization that examinations 
are only four weeks away. Dusty blank 
books in which are pasted old examination 
papers are fished out of the garrets and 
delved into studiously so as to gain an idea 
of what subjects it will be best to cram the 
most. That is the way the average student 
takes his first step to meet the tests, even 
when he has worked consistently and knows 
there should be nothing for him to fear. 
There was formerly a day at Eockwood when 
the great majority spent hours preparing 
handy ‘‘ponies,” with yards of facts, figures, 
dates, and formulae, such as are in use in 
every university, but the honor system, the 
stand of the senior council and, more lately, 
276 


THE LAST HAZING 


277 


the attitude of the College Union had almost 
eradicated this practice. 

There were some social events of note, but 
most of these were held until after the ‘^post- 
ex jubilee.’’ Basket-ball stirred up some 
interest but not a great deal of excitement as 
the team did not have as successful a sea- 
son as it had a year before. Ned played his 
usual good game at forward, and Jack Doug- 
las, a veteran forward, played even a better 
one, while Pink Eush at guard and Larry at 
center both improved on their form of the 
season before, hut Irving, the old captain, 
was sorely missed. Garner who filled out 
the team for most games could not begin to 
make up for the loss, and other subs were 
as bad until ‘^Jovial Jake” Jacobson was 
taught the game near the end of the season. 

Examination week came and went like a 
nightmare, and then Ned found he had 
drawn an unbroken row of ‘‘A’s,” the high- 
est mark, while Larry had two ^^A’s,” and 
the rest ^^B’s,” when even a would 

have passed him. All of the Pi Sigs main- 
tained a creditable standing, the freshmen 
having gained a higher average than ever 


278 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

before, which even the sophomores reluc- 
tantly admitted. Dave White distinguished 
himself, and Nat Fisher started well on the 
highway toward Phi Beta Kappa honors. 

With the opening of the new semester Ned 
and Larry took up a course in public speak- 
ing, both realizing the good it would do them 
at any time when they might have to make 
any kind of an address or even an informal 
talk before any throng. Within another 
month they had drifted into a debating club, 
and they decided to devote more time to 
oratory and debate in their junior year. 
This kept them as busy as they had ever 
been in football or track season, when they 
counted up the time they spent in promoting 
the College Union, which now embraced more 
than ninety per cent, of the undergraduates. 

This did not mean that Larry was giving . 
up his running. Almost every day he 
jogged about the indoor track after basket- 
ball practice to keep his wind sound, and on 
days when the basket-ball quintet did not 
play he often took a whirl at the out-of-door 
path for two miles, the distance he had run 
in the intercollegiate meet the last spring. 


THE LAST HAZING 


279 


Ned, just as carefully kept in form for the 
pole vault so as to be able to duplicate his 
performance in pulling down first honors in 
the State meet. 

Along in the middle of March there came 
one day that marked the beginning of spring. 
For the first time all the track and field can- 
didates reported out in the sunshine. The 
baseball squad, eighty strong, deserted the 
net cages of the gymnasium and frolicked 
over the springy turf of the diamond. With 
heavy sweaters, the ’Varsity crew lowered 
the next best shell from the boathouse fioat 
and swung far across the lake and back again, 
full of spirits to shake the grind in the dank, 
sunless tank in the basement of the gym- 
nasium. Larry came back at six o’clock to 
find half the Pi Sigs out on the level stretch 
of green lawn playing catch. 

‘^Get a stiff workout, Larry?” called 
Happy Eeynolds. 

‘‘Oh, fair. Nobody feels it this kind of 
weather, though. Gordon asked me to go 
the distance in ten-thirty; but it didn’t pull 
me. I feel perfectly fit to walk ten miles or 
so still, just to get enough exercise.” 


280 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

''All right, I'll just take you on for a 
walking Marathon after dinner," challenged 
Sammy Gardiner. "Say we hoof it to Glen 
Point and back? That will give you all the 
exercise you want." 

"You can't bluff me so easily. I'll actually 
do it with you," was the sophomore's reply. 

"Here, tool" volunteered Ned. "Any 
other entries before the books close?" 

"Unless freshmen are barred. I'll climb 
aboard for that trip," Wallie Rogers offered; 
"I've often wanted to see that place out at 
Glen Point, where the hazing used to be 
pulled off." 

"I've heard a lot about 'Fat Man's Mis- 
ery,' too, and am willing to view the scenery. 
It is sure to be too fine a night to work, any- 
way," added Dave White, who chummed 
with Larry a great deal now. 

During the dinner hour, all wondered if 
the others intended to set out on the sixteen- 
mile walk. No one really intended the affair 
until Sam put on his hat and laughingly 
walked to the door calling for the others. 
He turned back at the door but the other 
four passed him and carried the bluff fur- 


THE LAST HAZING 


281 


ther, until in a minute the five really set out 
in earnest. It was a beautiful night, and 
plenty warm to be comfortable. None re- 
gretted the move, although Ned could hardly 
put one foot ahead of the other as they re- 
turned to the edge of the town shortly after 
midnight. 

They passed the ’Varsity Butfet on their 
return, and even before they reached it could 
hear the chorus : 

‘‘For we’ll take just one more little drink, 
And then we’ll all — go home. 

I’d like to buy a little wine, 

But I can’t drink alone — ” 

In the pauses they could hear the thump 
of steins on the tables, and Larry knew what 
an appeal the rollicking song might have to 
Ned, recalling some of his freshmen bouts 
at the ’Varsity. Scarcely had one song been 
finished before another followed. With the 
shifting of the vagrant spring breeze they 
heard the words : 

‘ ‘ Oh, good-bye, booze ; oh, good-bye, booze — 
Forevermore ; forevermore ; 

My drinking days; my drinking days — 

Will soon be o’er; will soon be o’er — ” 


282 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


‘‘They certainly will be o’er if that gets 
to Prexy,” sagely joked Sammy; “unless 
that’s ’way otf I’d guess Spangler for one of 
those warbling canaries. Listen to that now.” 

Every one recognized the excited tones of 
the freshman president, singing alone ; 

“And when I die, and when I die, don’t you bury 
me at all. 

Just pickle my bones, just pickle my bones in al- 
cohol ; 

Place a bottle of booze, big bottle of booze, at my 
head and my feet — ” 

“Come on, Spangler; come on, old chap, 
forget it and let’s go home,” interrupted 
some one. The Pi Sigs were now almost even 
with the buffet and could hear Spangler sing- 
ing in an undertone that was not quite 
drowned by the chorus of expostulations. 
A scuffle followed and the door was thrown 
open. With one hand on the door knob, and 
the other steadying himself against the door 
jamb, Spangler crescendoed out into the 
night ; 

“I’m a rambling wreck of Rockwood tech, and — 
Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Ripley! Ripley! Ripley!” 


THE LAST HAZING 


283 


A second Chi Beta freshman, easily rec- 
ognized as Morrison, clapped a hand over 
Spangler’s month and jerked him back into 
the room, shonting: 

^^Do yon want to get ns all canned?” 

‘^Hadn’t we better lend a hand to get them 
home qnietly?” asked Dave. 

‘‘Morrison seems to be able to navigate 
and nse his noodle, I gness they can manage, ’ ’ 
decided Sam, and they moved on. 

“Those fellows shonld have some regard 
for the name of the college, and pnt on the 
soft pedal when they sing. That’s the least 
they can do,” growled Larry. “They’re 
still nothing bnt freshmen, anyway; I think 
we’ll have to attend to their cases.” 

“It’s a toss-np if it wonldn’t tnrn ont like 
another case I might mention;” laughed 
Ned. “Say, I have a hunch we could scare 
them up and get a fine rise out of them with 
a letter that is supposed to come from 
Proxy. Dave, you and Wallie just forget 
you are in the same class and keep your 
heads shut. Now here’s my plan, Larry; get 
some of Proxy’s office stationery — that won’t 


284 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

be hard from the way he lends it for glee 
club and debate notices — and typewrite a 
letter presuming to come from Proxy’s 
secretary, threatening expulsion or a sus- 
pension, then kid them about it on the campus 
until they get wise.” 

The trick was planned out in the minutest 
detail and the next afternoon Spangler read 
the following letter: 

‘‘Mb. J. L. Spangleb, 

“Chi Beta Pi Fraternity House. 

“Dear Sir : — 

“You are hereby given notice to appear 
before the discipline committee of the Rock- 
wood faculty at my residence Saturday even- 
ing at 8.15 0 ’clock. At this meeting you will 
be allowed an opportunity to prove that you 
did not lead Mr. Morrison, and certain other 
Freshmen whose names are in our hands, in 
a disgraceful carousal at the ’Varsity Buffet. 
With evidence submitted to us, this will with- 
out doubt be merely a perfunctory hearing. 
From what we are told, it seems that you, as 
Freshman President and ringleader, are 
more to blame than the other members of 
your fraternity and class. It is likely, there- 
fore, that we shall not punish them, but will 
be content with one public example, unless 
you choose to leave college and make it neces- 
sary to punish those who are not so guilty. 


THE LAST HAZING 


285 


Hoping you realize what a serious charge is 
held against you, I remain, 

‘‘Very truly yours, 

‘ ‘ Samuel R. Builton, President, 
“Per E. C.’’ 

Everything was typewritten except the 
secretary’s initials which Ned could write 
without committing forgery. It never en- 
tered Spangler’s head that this could be any- 
thing but the real article, and he had a bad 
night of it, telling himself what a fool he had 
been to ruin his college career in this way. 

The next morning Ned and Larry took the 
Chi Beta sophomores into their confidence, 
and they agreed to enjoy the hazing on their 
own account. They made the freshman pres- 
ident miserable by a score of haphazard re- 
marks that hit all about the question. 
Finally Spangler took one of them up to his 
room on the third floor, produced the letter, 
read it solemnly and asked for advice. 

“There is only one thing to do,” he was 
assured even more solemnly. “You’ll have 
to sacrifice yourself to save all our other 
freshmen. Nothing must prevent your at- 
tending that meeting of the discipline com- 


286 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


mittee. It’s hard lines, but you’ll have to 
acknowledge that no one is responsible but 
yourself. ’ ’ 

That night Spangler approached the home 
of President Builton at the appointed hour 
and minute, dolefully whistling the merry 
chorus of a popular musical comedy hit otf 
the key in his despondency. This was the 
end of college for him, he reasoned over and 
over again; and now he wondered why he 
had ever run this risk of being expelled for 
pleasure that tasted flat in his present re- 
view. 

‘‘Well, anyway. I’ll not think the worst 
until the discipline committee says nothing 
else will do,” he sighed, half aloud, as he 
turned in toward the president’s home. 

At that instant his arms were seized from 
behind. A handkerchief was clapped over 
his mouth, and before he could make an out- 
cry he was hustled out into the deep shadow 
on the other side of a giant oak. Here his 
legs were tied and his eyes blindfolded. 

Suddenly all the boys around him halted 
their actions and kept silent. The fresh- 
man heard President Builton ’s measured 


THE LAST HAZING 


287 


step on the porch. He tried to shout, but 
could not have been heard three yards away. 
He attempted to kick against the tree to 
attract attention, but could not move either 
foot. Then he heard the door close as the 
old scholar reassured himself that what he 
had mistaken for a chance visitor was only 
the wind. 

Spangler knew he was kidnapped by the 
sophomores ; but thought he had simply been 
picked out for a belated bit of hazing on ac- 
count of his office as president of his class. 
He was hardened to the general hazing by 
this time, but was now tortured by the 
thought that his absence from the meeting 
with the discipline committee would be mis- 
construed as a purpose to run away from 
the dishonor of being publicly expelled. 
Now the entire Chi Beta freshman contingent 
would be at least suspended, he reasoned, 
and he was unselfish enough not to place his 
own safety and honor above that of many 
close friends he had sworn to aid in every 
way in his power. 

Ned’s fertile brain had provided for some 
way to get the freshman out of the reach of 


288 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


his friends, and at his low whistle, one of the 
Chi Beta sophomores drove np in a covered 
grocery wagon he had bribed a delivery boy 
to lend them for a half hour. Spangler was 
tossed in and driven out of town, all of the 
sophomores piling into the wagon to take the 
ride with him. 

They went to the same secluded spot where 
they had given Spider Forrest his mock trial 
six months before, but they were resolved to 
let Spangler off more easily than they had 
their previous victim. The worry of his 
idea that his best friends were to suffer 
through his lack to show up at the meeting 
was almost enough punishment in itself. 
They tied him to a large tree, loosely enough 
so the rope would not check his circulation, 
and as they were then beginning to feel the 
night chill, they built a bonfire a few yards 
away so as to keep him as comfortable as 
themselves. 

Then they discussed what they would do 
to him in low tones as if he were not in- 
tended to overhear their words. Their stage 
whispers did not tend to put him at ease, 
even though he knew by this time the greater 



Then they discussed what they would do to him. — Page 2S8 










■ ^ 

I- : -V^' 


♦ 


- L' ■■'y^BjSSr '5* \ -f 

« -* '■'• ' 'yr\. ^ 

.ik . * V ^ 






THE LAST HAZING 


289 


part of the sophomores^ pranks had never 
been serions. 

^^No, I’m hardly in favor of that, either,” 
Spangler heard Ned protest vehemently. 
‘‘Yon know what it did to Curly Thompson. 
I think it ’s going ’way too far when you run 
the risk of breaking both legs that way. I’ll 
bet Curly is still hopping about on crutches. 
He was the last time I saw him.” 

“Yes, that’s right,” insisted Bruin, com- 
ing to Ned’s defense. “I know how long 
Curly was laid up in the hospital, because I 
went to visit him almost every week. Just 
because one of our class got done up that 
way, is no argument to pass it on to the next 
class. I say we give him the Rockwood 
third degree — it isn’t half so dangerous even 
if it does hurt more.” 

For fifteen minutes they argued the ques- 
tion, with occasional warning to each other 
to “talk low so Spangler can’t hear.” 
Sometimes to help their acting they did 
lower their voices so he had no possibility of 
hearing, but when they came to the point 
of relating some hair-breadth escape from 
death they “unconsciously” raised their 


290 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


voices a little to give the freshman the cold 
shivers. 

Nothing could have dragged a word from 
Spangler about his supposed meeting with 
the discipline committee, but he took occa- 
sion to strain at his ropes and try to slip his 
bonds when he thought the sophomores were 
too interested in their plans to watch him 
closely. Finally when all made ready to 
finish preparations for the favorite third de- 
gree, he seized the golden opportunity to 
work his hands loose. 

‘‘Hadn^t we better leave one man to watch 
himT’ Larry had questioned. 

‘^No, what^s the useT’ Ned had responded, 
know he can’t slip that rope, because I 
knotted it myself.” 

Then with a grin all around, two of the 
group had tiptoed around in the rear of the 
tree and loosened two knots so the ropes 
would drop after ten or fifteen minutes of 
tugging. Spangler made haste as he lis- 
tened to the departing footsteps, and freed 
his hands about the time that his persecutors 
had reached the campus on the way home. 

With frantic eagerness he tore his blind- 


THE LAST HAZING 


291 


fold from his eyes, undid the cords about 
his ankles, and felt for his watch to see if it 
were too late to get back to the discipline 
committee meeting before all the professors 
had left. Pinned on his vest above his watch- 
pocket he saw a note. He tore this open 
and read; on stationery having the presi- 
dent’s name embossed in one corner: 

“Dear Sir: You are hereby given notice 
you need not appear before the discipline 
committee Saturday night, as the committee 
will not meet. Luckily none of the faculty 
heard your atrocious attempt at music at the 
’Varsity, and none has learned of that 
sketch so far as we know. We beg leave to 
remain, 

“Your old friends of 1913 .” 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE CHI BETA FIEE 

^‘Help! Help! Fire!’’ 

At half-past two in the morning, these 
cries threw ^‘Fraternity Row” into an up- 
roar. Everywhere students leaped from their 
beds and rushed to the windows to see what 
was the cause of the disturbance. Larry, 
occupying a front room with Ned, was among 
the first aroused. He jumped from the cov- 
ers and ran the blind up to the top of the win- 
dow. The sight he beheld appalled him. 

Almost directly across the street the Chi 
Beta Pi house was blazing fiercely from roof 
to basement. Crackling flames and dense 
smoke poured out from almost every window 
on the east side and in the front. 

Staggering weakly from the fumes they 
breathed, students were reeling from the 
door to collapse the minute they reached the 
fresh air. One of them, with singed cloth- 
292 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


293 


ing and disheveled hair stood in the middle 
of the lawn screaming at the top of his voice : 

‘‘Fire! Fire! Fire!’^ 

The ruddy glare of the great blaze lighted 
his face, and as he turned Larry thought 
he recognized Morrison, the roommate of 
Spangler. He was the only one who was 
fully dressed, and the only one who was not 
making some effort to rescue his comrades 
or to extinguish the fire. Others, busy car- 
rying out furniture, paid no heed to the 
frantic freshman who waved his arms and 
continued to sound the alarm. 

Larry waited to see no more ; pausing only 
an instant to draw on a pair of Indian moc- 
casins that he used in place of slippers, he 
headed for the stairs. In the lower hall he 
collided with Silent Dave who was groping 
for an overcoat. The sophomore also halted 
long enough to seize his overcoat, and 
shrugged his shoulders into it as he raced 
across the street. From all sides students 
were coming to help carry out furniture, 
many attired only in pajamas and shoes, 
others with cravenettes, a few more fully 
garbed in coats and trousers. 


294 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


The Betas, living next door, were the first 
to awaken and respond to the call for aid, 
the Belts, directly across the street were 
second, and the Pi Sigs, further away, were 
third. All devoted their first attention to 
the boys who had fought their way down the 
stairs through suffocating clouds of smoke 
to lose consciousness at the doorway or on 
the veranda. The second effort was to save 
as much furniture as possible, as one of the 
seniors put the fears of many at rest by as- 
suring them that all the hoys had been got 
out in safety. 

‘‘Has any one called the fire depart- 
ment T’ shouted Larry as he came out of the 
house with his first load of overcoats to pro- 
tect some of the boys who had fainted and 
were now being revived on the lawn. 

“Yes, I did that, by telephone!’’ responded 
another senior. “I guess I was the first 
Morry woke up when he began to shout so 
I thought it was up to me.” 

Morrison stopped his hysterical cries as 
he heard his name mentioned. 

“Honest, I don’t know how I did it! 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


295 


Don’t hold it np against me, fellows!” he ex- 
claimed, piteously. 

That’s all right, Morry, we’re not hold- 
ing you responsible!” soothed one of the 
juniors. ‘^Nobody knows how it started.” 

‘‘But I did it — I did it!” insisted the fresh- 
man. “I came up late from down town, and 
I didn’t want to make too much noise going 
up stairs so I sat down on the window seat 
in the hall to smoke first. I don’t know if 
it was a match or if my cigarette dropped 
and smouldered in the rug. I must have 
been asleep an hour before the heat woke 
me up ; and the fire was climbing up the stair- 
way then. I did it. I know I did.” 

He broke away from the junior’s grasp 
and began to call again, as the lone chem- 
ical, one hose wagon and the hook and ladder 
company came down the avenue, a pack of 
dogs and scores of people streaming in the 
wake of the fire apparatus. 

Fanned by a dangerous breeze the flames 
roared up into the air on both sides and the 
front of the building, making a blazing 
torch that could be seen over the country 


296 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


for miles about. The deluge of a hundred 
streams of water could not have checked it 
now. The open front door and the broken 
windows created a violent draft, sucking the 
flames up the stairs to the third floor on 
which the freshman rooms were all located. 
The basement also was taken by the seething 
fury of the fire. 

The situation unnerved the volunteer fire- 
fighters who were at a loss as to what to do. 
The continued chill up to the past week had 
left the ground frozen at a considerable 
depth and bonfires had to be built about two 
fire-plugs to thaw them out for use. Even 
then the water pressure drove the fire chief 
into a rage. 

‘^I’d give a fortune for a good head of 
water he cried, but every one could see 
that the building was doomed. 

‘‘Good thing for us it^s well insured,” re- 
marked one philosophic senior. 

The clang of bells and toot of horns had 
aroused the entire town and a crowd of two 
thousand gathered about the lawn attracted 
by the wild spectacle of the shooting flames. 
It was the biggest fire in the history of Red 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


297 


Oaks, and the crowd pressed in so close as 
to tax the constable to the ntmost to protect 
those in front from falling blocks of stone. 
Now and then the gust of flames sent the wav- 
ering lines surging back from the blister- 
ing heat. The rear of the great stone 
chapter-house was the last to be attacked as 
the wind blew from that direction; but even 
this was now beginning to blaze. 

Suddenly Morrison rushed out from the 
Beta Mu Epsilon house where his classmates 
had been trying to calm him. He seemed 
almost beside himself with hysterical emo- 
tion. 

Hasn’t anybody got him out yet?” he 
shouted wildly. 

The boy rushed over to the fire chief and 
shook him by the shoulders. 

‘‘The rest say everybody is out,” replied 
the chief. “Here, some one take care of 
this man ! ’ ’ 

Larry quietly unloosed Morrison’s hands 
and started to lead the unstrung freshman 
back through the crowd. 

“Tell me about it, kid,” he demanded in 
a matter-of-fact tone that had its effect. 


298 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Morrison stopped raving and talked ration- 
ally. 

‘^lUs Spangler; we roomed together up in 
that corner — see. ’ ’ He pointed to a window 
from which smoke was eddying listlessly, 
showing it to be the last one reached by the 
fire. “All the rest have been checked np 
by roommates. But I can’t find him. He 
must be in there. I’m going up by the back 
way. Tom, you come, too.” 

The junior hailed by the frantic boy ran 
around to the rear with them and helped 
force the back door. Leading up from the 
kitchen Larry saw the back flight of stairs. 
The flames had eaten their way through a 
partition loosening the joists that supported 
the stairway. Larry saw no time must be 
lost. 

“Sure he’s up there?” he queried a last 
time. 

“Yes, I know he is.” 

The tall sophomore lunged through the 
thick smoke in the kitchen, groped for the 
stairway and ran up it three steps at a time. 
A wall of fire met him half-way and he heard 
his hair crackle as it was singed. He was 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


299 


able to throw one arm up fast enough to 
protect his eyes and face as he ducked low 
and fell up the remainder of the first flight. 
As he felt his way around the turn for the 
second flight of steps he heard the first flight 
crash through to the basement. 

His eyes smarted, blinded by the swirling 
smoke. His head swam dizzily. A fit of 
coughing stopped him as he drew the fumes 
deep into his lungs. With feet that seemed 
unsure, and hands that felt as if they did not 
belong to him, he crawled up the second 
flight. 

At the top he rose to his feet and turned 
toward the corner room. His legs were re- 
bellious of his orders, the knees weakly 
caved in and he fell. What little air re- 
mained clear was in the current flowing close 
to the floor. He drank this in and crawled 
along until he felt the door. Here he stood 
up again, and a second time he fell. As he 
crashed against the panels he felt the jar of 
something falling on the other, although he 
could hear nothing through the roaring 
flames. 

He turned the knob, and was surprised to 


300 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


find the door now swung open easily. He 
reeled tlirougli, caught his feet in a mass of 
scorched clothing and came down heavily a 
third time. He lost consciousness for a time, 
hut the air here was more pure than else- 
where in the building and revived him. 

Instantly he saw that he had stumbled over 
Spangler on his entrance. The inmate of 
the room had awakened in time to reach the 
door, but was overcome and fell against it 
so Larry would not have been able to push it 
in had not his first shock jarred the fresh- 
man so that he fell the rest of the way to the 
fioor. The sophomore crawled to the broken 
window and leaned out. The air did him 
good and he waved to the two Chi Betas be- 
low, motioning for the ladder although he 
knew it reached scarcely beyond the second- 
story windows. 

It occurred to him to carry Spangler down 
to the second fioor. His strength had come 
back to him with his breath of fresh air, so 
he filled his lungs, held his breath and picked 
up the heavy burden he must take below. 
Midway down the fiight he was seized with 
another paroxysm of coughing, and became 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


301 


weak and dizzy. He saw now where it 
would have been wiser to have lowered 
Spangler in a rope of blankets until the fire- 
men on the ladder could have taken him. 
He turned to climb up again, hut his knees 
again gave way. 

In a perfectly disinterested way he felt his 
head bumping one step after another as 
he slid down, but he had lost any concern 
about such little matters. After a while he 
stopped, and something like a log of wood, 
only much softer, came similarly bumping 
down the flight of stairs and rolled over upon 
him. 

‘‘ThaHs somebody I know,’’ he thought, 
‘‘and I was going to do something for him; 
what was it?” 

Then a puif of wind drove the smoke away 
for an instant and he dimly distinguished a 
window at the end of the hall. He made for 
it slowly, grimly dragging his companion 
after him over the blistering hot boards from 
which the matting had been burned in spots. 

Leaping tongues of flame hungrily licked 
the boards behind him as he retreated. 
Smoke curled up between his fingers, through 


302 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the cracks in the hardwood floor. It was like 
a furnace. He no longer dared to breathe 
the smoky air, but shut his mouth and 
crawled on until his head bumped the wel- 
come wall. Almost blinded by the smoke, he 
could not see the window overhead, but knew 
it must be there. 

For a few seconds he relaxed and re- 
cuperated for the etfort he planned. Then, 
resolutely tugging at the unconscious fresh- 
man he managed to get him into a sitting 
posture, before he fell himself from dizzi- 
ness. 

‘‘This ends it,’’ he thought. 

Then he realized his elbow was hooked 
over a window ledge, and as he raised his 
face to the aperture he felt a cooler breath 
of air. His eyes were too weak to make out 
anything except a dim outline of the case- 
ment. Weakly he thrust out one arm and 
waved it to show where he was. An an- 
swering shout from below assured him that 
the firemen were ready. 

The thump of the ladder against the wall 
gave him new strength and courage. Lock- 
ing his arms under Spangler’s limp arms, he 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


303 


tottered erect and fell half-way through the 
window. That was the last he could remem- 
ber. He came to himself as he was being 
passed down the ladder between two rows of 
volunteers. He was too weak to do anything 
except grin and faint again, never hearing the 
cheering crowd that surged around the foot of 
the ladder in defiance of the orders of the con- 
stable and the fire chief who feared a collapse 
of the walls. 

Larry was speedily revived, and insisted on 
going around in front a minute to watch the 
magnificent spectacle. Spangler, in the 
meanwhile was carried over to the Pi Sig 
house where a physician was called to dress 
his burns. At Long Dan’s urging, Larry 
followed soon afterward and had his hands, 
his face and his unprotected ankles attended 
to. 

It was out of the question to sleep. The 
exhausted sophomore lay down on a leather 
couch, made soft with pillows. For ten min- 
utes he rested, then became nervous and went 
upstairs to dress. Ned helped him to put on 
his clothes, as his bandaged hands were too 
clumsy to be of service. He came down stairs 


304 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

again and found Spangler propped up in an 
easy chair before the bay window, where he 
could see the ghastly inferno across the 
street. 

The freshman president had not had the 
protection of a heavy overcoat and had been 
blistered much more severely than Larry. 
When he saw the tall athlete steal quietly 
into the room he turned and extended a band- 
aged hand. Both laughed in the embar- 
rassed sort of way the average American boy 
uses to hide his true emotions. Then Spang- 
ler choked and remarked in as matter-of-fact 
a tone as he could assume: 

^‘That was immense of you, old fellow. I 
tell you — ^well, you know — I simply canT tell 
you how much I appreciate it. You came 
pretty near being burned up there yourself. 
We haven T been the best sort of friends until 
now, I know, but after this — ’’ 

‘ ^ Oh, that ^s all right ; forget it. That ’s an- 
cient history now. I guess we understand 
each other after all, and I’m glad of it. That 
fire will hit you boys hard. You want to 
make this your headquarters until you get 
squared away.” 



He tottered erect and fell half-way through the window 

Page 303. 











'^J^•‘■'■•r^■ i^ ll^' '*(*'’ 



















ifA.,i£ 


•wfiR ♦ ' il ! ^ * i%». ^JL ’’ f ^ j' !*' 'v'cdnSlSLa 

"7.* t • ' 4 F u 

. - v-.. •' >’:T'f 




^‘V - 



’ii:' • •.,-^ 


X ^ 



-^■iVv#.); u t 



i' M 


fcx . •■ 4^ ^ 


^ tA. 1 


* 




*■'1, 


■ • < 


V. 3t*."- -. « i^- , 



V. 




5^’' ■<r<'''' . ■ ^A ' ■ .•W''^4i' ■'. vitiv.- i: ,■ 


V; . '«; ‘■•vJt 

>' .i>« 



r.^ 1^. 





4 i 


• .. 4 V 









V?i %,' J -^W f -- '*.’;■ WS^&’:'i^ S-21^" 




<f 


V x 


•.» -* 






:> 




'■4fjr. 




,,,'t.’,r,S^u^ 



w 


.t;- .■ . 

^4 "■ V<‘ 


;9f>i > • /^.*, . 





THE CHI BETA FIBE 


305 


‘^Thanks, weTl be mighty glad to do that 
for a while. I suppose weTl rent some place 
for the rest of the year and then start to re- 
build. The alumni will all help make up what 
the insurance doesnT cover. 

^‘I’m sorrier about Morrison than anything 
else,’’ commented Larry. ‘^He seems to be 
almost a nervous wreck from the excitement. ’ ’ 
^^He’s better now,” explained Nat Fisher. 
^^The boys have been comparing notes and 
it seems that after all the fire must have 
started over in the corner of the parlor right 
above the furnace, and not from the window 
seat as he imagined. It would never have got 
such a headway before waking him up if it 
had started nearer to him. He is more quiet 
now that the burden for setting fire to the 
house has been lifted off his shoulders.” 

Every one lapsed into silence for a time, 
and watched the busy firemen turning their 
hoses upon the adjacent Beta Mu Epsilon 
house and the dwelling on the other side, 
whose blistering walls steamed under the 
streams from the nozzles. 

The round tower in the corner of the chap- 
ter lodge crumbled away under the intense 


306 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

heat. This warned the lines of people to 
retreat lest they be taken unaware by falling 
walls. Through the place where the tower 
had been a weird crimson fountain of flame 
played with spouting fury. Then the entire 
roof collapsed with a roar, and a geyser of 
cinders and hot ashes. Buried under tons of 
the smoking beams and hot stone the top 
floor gave way and plunged through to the 
basement of the roaring pit. First the front 
and then the east walls toppled in, some of the 
loose blocks all but trapping three of the vol- 
unteer fire-fighters. 

Spangler ^s eyes were misty when he turned 
his head away. 

^ ‘ Thank heaven, none of the boys are down 
under that,’’ he said. 

The smoke of the ruins greeted them as all 
the students passed on the way to chapel. 
The president’s secretary had telephoned 
around the announcement there would be no 
recitations out of respect to Spangler whose 
burns had taken a turn for the worse caus- 
ing him to be removed to the city hospital. 
He had spread the information, however, that 
President Builton had a few remarks to make 


THE CHI BETA FIRE 


307 


in regard to the calamity, so chapel was held 
at the usual hour. 

All the metropolitan papers had featured 
the rescue, as they were always glad to play 
up live news from the college town, hut Larry 
had hoped comment on the affair would end 
with that. In this he was disappointed, as 
every student who passed him on the way to 
chapel had an inquiry concerning his burns 
and a word of praise for his action. The 
climax came when President Builton, after 
commiserating with the Chi Beta Pi chapter, 
undertook to honor the hero of the hour. 

Larry was seated in the rear, and as soon 
as he caught the spirit of the remarks he 
quietly dodged out of the auditorium and 
broke for shelter, knowing he might be ex- 
pected to make some remarks at the close of 
the president’s address. Fifteen minutes 
later, Ned enthusiastically broke into chap- 
ter-house and cornered his roommate with his 
demand : 

‘^Why didn’t you stick around? It was 
immense. You should have heard some of 
the things he said about, ‘The man who is 
big-hearted enough to forget artificial bonds 


308 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


of clique and class, to risk his life in an hour 
of need. ’ He laid it on with a trowel. And, 
Larry, on the dead level, Prexy says there 
is a Carnegie medal on the way. ’ ’ 


CHAPTEE XIV 


THE TWO-MILE BECOKD 

Owing to blisters on bis ankles, Larry was 
forced to cnt track practice for two weeks. 
To forget tbe cinder path in the afternoons 
when he wanted to be swinging about the 
circle in the sunlight, he usually accepted 
the invitations of Sam Grardiner, Walt Nel- 
son, and Silent Dave to come up to the dia- 
mond and get his first real acquaintance with 
‘‘inside ball.^’ 

Many a lazy afternoon found him decora- 
ting a bench beside some sub who was not 
able to hit the gait of the two squads picked 
to line up for a practice game. What 
amazed him most was the system of planning 
a dozen moves ahead to reach some desired 
result, in exactly the style adopted by the 
professional club managers. Of course, he 
had played baseball, the corner lot variety 
every live boy plays, and he would have 
laughed at any one who said he did not un- 
309 


310 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


derstand the game; but a few days on the 
bench, or walking the field with Dunk Know- 
land while he coached the individual players, 
convinced him that he was woefully ignorant 
of the finer points. He saw, as never before, 
that games are won and lost more according 
to the headwork of the manager or coach than 
according to ability of the nine players. 

Team batting and base running, the things 
Knowland specialized on in coaching, soon 
came to fascinate Larry. Waites heady 
work in breaking up the combinations worked 
against Sammy and himself, were still more 
of a surprise. By close observation and 
study, Walt had determined the right throw 
for almost every play, and lost no time be- 
fore whipping the ball to the proper sack 
in solving and breaking up the play. Here 
he had all the advantage in the world over 
the second catcher, who did not act by the 
same baseball instinct. One play in particu- 
lar emphasized this difference to Larry his 
first afternoon upon the field. 

It was a sacrifice steal worked by players 
on first and third. Leaving the first base, the 
first ’Varsity base-runner drew a throw to 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


311 


second from the scrub catcher. Meanwhile, 
the runner on third came racing home to cross 
the pan long before the ball could be returned. 
Then the first Warsity mischief-maker found 
himself free to save his own hide in a re- 
treat to first, or in completing his steal to 
second. Even if put out, he had done his part 
to add a tally to the score. After the ’Var- 
sity had worked this deal in a practice game, 
the baseball coach sagely put two fast base- 
runners on first and third with instructions 
to work the squeeze on Walt. 

Every one was eager to see what way the 
man behind the mask would use to spoil the 
steal. Step by step the battery had its plan 
evolved. From the first Walt knew what was 
to come, and signaled for a wide pitch so the 
batsman could not spoil his throw with a bunt, 
nor delay him with a strike. At his signal 
the short-stop raced in as the ball was deliv- 
ered, and Walt whipped the ball to him in- 
stead of to the man on the keystone sack. 
His quick return enabled the catcher to shut 
otf the run and then double on the runner try- 
ing to steal second. 

‘‘Noodle-work!” was the coach’s verdict. 


312 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


^‘Now we ^11 try out the infield on the fake 
bunt play/^ 

The fastest base-runner was placed on sec- 
ond and a good hitter stationed at the plate, 
making a bluff at being anxious to bunt to 
pull the third baseman off his station. At 
the last second the batsman drew back his 
stick and rapped the ball down toward third. 
For the third baseman to have uncovered his 
bag to field would have been out of the ques- 
tion ; and it would take too long for short-stop 
to gather it in. On the crack of the bat, 
therefore, Sammy dodged over from the 
pitcher’s box and harpooned the sizzler, toss- 
ing it to third in time to catch the runner, and 
almost allowing time to double up at first. 

Matching stratagem against stratagem this 
way, these squads educated themselves for 
every exigency, being instantly corrected 
whenever wrong and teaching each other their 
best knowledge when right. 

To hear Dunk Knowland coach a batter was 
a liberal education in baseball. Larry often 
grinned at some discomfited novice who was 
being taught to ‘^bat with brains.” Under 
the instruction of the coach, Walt kept up a 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


313 


constant stream of chatter to divert the bats- 
man’s attention from the pitcher’s action, 
give him less time to think when the ball 
was delivered and ultimately making him so 
rattled he would swing at the first ball which 
was fed him. 

All this time Walt would be ganging the 
batter’s weaknesses, calculating the weight 
and length of the bat used and the way the 
player stood in his box. If the bat were 
dropped after a foul he would quietly pick it 
up and knock the dirt from his spikes, thus 
gaining accurately the information he wished. 
Knowing a heavy bat was being used he knew 
also the batsman could not chop at a jump 
ball nor connect with an inshoot. Seeing a 
short club was the choice, he would signal 
for outs against which the batter would be al- 
most powerless. 

When it became obvious that the batsman 
wished to bunt, Walt signaled to Sam or 
Vance to keep the ball high. If the proper 
play would be a bunt toward third, the signal 
would call for a pronounced out which was 
sure to roll toward first, and the pitcher 
knowing where the ball must go had no lost 


314 LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


motion in getting there to field it. And all 
this time his good-natured talk kept the play- 
er ’s mind ot¥ the matter in hand. 

^‘What will it be, kid?’^ he would query. 
‘^Out-drop? Our specialty. You’ll have it 
served in a minute.” 

And when the batsman would be looking 
for anything but an out-drop, that very ball 
would fool him. 

There’s where we slid one over, boy,” 
the chaffing would be resumed. Watch us 
do it again. Dunk is going to pitch the bat 
boy against you next inning, either that or 
the mascot. It’s a sure thing that mascot 
could get your goat. Easiest thing in the 
world to get your Angora, you’re so easily 
distracted. See, you let another strike go 
by and never waved your willow wand at it. 
What ’s the matter with that ball ! Don ’t you 
like them so high? Going to wait for one 
that suits exactly? Oh, you’re a good waiter. 
You should go down to O’s and get a job wait- 
ing on his hot-dog counter. Ah, now don ’t be 
disappointed because you’re sure to strike 
out. You didn’t expect to hit, anyway, did 


THE TWO-MILE KECORD 


315 


you? Honest, you couldnT hit the earth if 
you fell out of a balloon.’’ 

It was a truism at the training quarters 
that if a batter got so Walt could not make 
him forget the game, no sound from thou- 
sands in the bleachers, and no tight pinch in 
the play would ever trouble him. That was 
Dunk’s idea in calling for so much of this 
baiting; it taught the players to think under 
the most distracting circumstances. He took 
a hand in it himself, every now and then. 
Then if the freshman he had completely rat- 
tled struck out he would impart a little talk 
on batting to him, which never failed to throw 
light on some difficulty. 

^^Find the bat that’s best suited to you, 
youngster. For myself I think a medium- 
weight club of second-growth ash is a grand 
weapon to maul the horsehide around the 
lot. But never try to knock the cover off — 
just meet it sharply. Stand firm, take a 
steady grip up the handle where it balances 
for quick work, cock your eye on the pitch- 
er’s hand and swing accurately to connect 
with the ball as you solve it. 


316 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


^^Make him hand you a good one. It^s 
your own fault if you take anything less. 
He can’t atford to chuck too many and tire 
himself out. If he throws more than one hun- 
dred and thirty in a game he’s apt to weaken. 
But for yourself, bat as long as you can find 
some one to feed the ball to you. A major 
league batsman often puts in five hours a day 
at practice. 

Don’t look for any one way to have it ex- 
plained so much as to find it all out for your- 
self. There is only one sentence that tells 
how it should be done. One of the old play- 
ers who was in the three hundred class or 
better for many years used to say: ‘Hit ’em 
where they ain’t.’ That’s better than all the 
scientific treatises on timing the swing and 
all that sort of guff. 

“Mainly, you need the batting eye, but 
something outside that can always be learned. 
Here comes an out-shoot straight for your 
elbow. If you lack the eye, you ’ll break your 
neck tumbling back from it, only to see it 
clip the outer corner of the plate at the last 
second. The man with an eye stands up on 
his hind legs and nails a bender like that 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


317 


square on the nose as she rounds out two feet 
from where it seemed to be aimed from the 
rifle-pit. 

^ ‘ Take a floater. The man without the bat- 
ting eye will bite on that and finish his swing 
before it comes to him, or else foul it. That 
same hall is pickings to the real batsman. 
High balls, low balls, wide or close, fast or 
slow, the man who chokes his bat right and 
has the eye can lean on them all, though 
he will have his weaknesses, of course. 

‘‘You’re all right, youngster, out there in 
the field; but you’ll have to brighten up your 
batting average to heat Dave White out of 
the ’Varsity left field. There’s a hoy who 
can clout; and that’s what wins games. I’ll 
not coax along any fancy fielder to find he’s 
not there on the stick work. It’s easier to 
teach anything before that.” 

Listening to the discussion of such tech- 
nique, Larry concluded one afternoon that 
he was just a little out of his sphere. He 
wandered down on the field to where Ward 
was toying with the discus and Plugger 
Brown doggedly putting the shot from an ad- 
joining circle. Then he continued down the 


318 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


green oval exclosnre to visit with the broad 
jumpers. In time he wandered on to the 
vaulting pit, where Ned and Jack Douglas 
were fighting it out in the pole vault, with the 
bar at eleven feet. 

Tommy Lane and a host of sprinters, and 
candidates who hoped they might be sprint- 
ers some day, were practising starts and 
catching the stride from the crouch start. 
While Wheeler, who ran the mile in record 
time swung tirelessly around the cinder path 
on its outside edge, a force of workmen raked 
and rolled the screening on the top of the 
loam and cinder foundation until they had 
a fine springy surface that would be fit for 
the spikes of champions. 

Carter, the half-miler of the team, jogged 
out to join Wheeler in his easy lope, but 
stopped to chat with Larry instead. Dick 
Gordon joined them as they wrangled good- 
naturedly over the exact speed at which the 
miler was running. Larry was doing his best 
to educate himself to judge pace not only in 
himself but in other runners. 

Because he had not displayed the proper 
judgment in pace last spring in the Inter- 


THE TWO-MILE KECORD 


319 


collegiate meet, he had dropped from first to 
second in his two-mile event ; Miles of Hipley 
p.nlling lip to pass him in the last quarter and 
beat him to the finish by a matter of inches. 
He had made np his mind this year that he 
would not burn himself out early in the long 
grind, by letting any one run him otf his feet 
at the wrong stage of the contest. He could 
tell his own pace for any distance and could 
name within a few seconds his time for a half- 
mile, mile, mile and one-half, or the full dis- 
tance, but it was harder to guess the speed 
of any one else to the same nicety. 

One-twelve for this quarter!’’ he haz- 
arded. 

^H’ll add five to that for my guess,” an- 
nounced Carter. 

‘‘Both wrong, boys; it’s near one-fifteen,” 
Gordon declared. 

He snapped his stop watch as Wheeler 
brushed by with his steady, swinging stride. 
For more than a minute they followed the 
runner with their eyes. Then as he ap- 
proached again and drew even with them, the 
coach caught the time. 

“Four-fifths of a second too high,” Gor- 


320 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


don proclaimed; getting rotten on this 

guess-work. Well, Larry, how much longer 
will it he before the doctor lets me at yop 
again? You look as if you were getting fat 
with this lazy life of the last two weeks.’’ 

‘‘I know it,” grinned the freckle-faced 
sophomore. ^‘I’m beginning to feel like a 
back number; but the doc won’t let me out 
again until Tuesday. He’s afraid my ankles 
will go back on me.” 

^‘We should have a mighty good season,” 
remarked Gordon; ‘‘so far, one hundred and 
sixty men have reported. That beats any 
other sport in the university for numbers, and 
that’s the thing I like about track and field. 
A fellow doesn’t have to have the same diffi- 
cult combinations of speed, weight, strength 
and skill that he needs in football, rowing, 
or baseball. Unless he is a more hopeless dub 
than I’ve found yet, we can teach him to do 
something better than the average man, 
whether it is to clear a good height in the 
high jump, or to scale a discus out further 
than the ordinary man could do. 

“The best of it is it brings the hoys out 
here in the air and the sunshine, and gives 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


321 


them exercise they don’t realize they are get- 
ting because they enjoy it so much. And 
another thing, I’ll tell yon a secret if it goes 
no further ; we ’re going to have record smash- 
ers in two of our freshmen before they leave 
Eockwood with a degree. Jacobson is de- 
veloping into a world-beater at the hammer 
for a new man, and Wallie Rogers is just 
naturally eating the high hurdles alive. 
Come over now and watch Wallie a while.” 

‘‘Well, I know he certainly has worked hard 
enough to make good,” announced the soph- 
omore. “You know how he took up calis- 
thenics all winter in the gymnasium so as to 
build himself up in every way, but perhaps 
you don’t know how much time he spends 
every night and morning rising on his toes, 
lifting his knees to his chest and all that sort 
of thing to limber his stride over the sticks. 
Every morning before his cold shower, he 
spends ten minutes bending and twisting 
about to make his waist supple. That should 
count if anything ever did.” 

“It has counted, too. I tell you, he is go- 
ing to hold some good marks before he quits 
this sort of thing to get soft and fat in busi- 


322 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


ness. You know I have always told you a 
man can get anything he will pay the price 
for, and this youngster is going to cash in his 
time in the Intercollegiate unless I have the 
bummest bunch I ever coaxed along. Look 
at that start now! Never hesitates! Gone 
with the pistol and over the first like a flash ! 
See how he takes up the drag in the back 
foot with the swing of that long step over 
the sticks. Oh, Wallie — lean your head for- 
ward just a bit more when you land, espe- 
cially on the last hurdle! You have to take 
out the slightest check in that last sprint for 
the tape. There, thaUs beautiful. Breeze a 
two-twenty now, and that will do you for this 
afternoon. Practise starting to-morrow with 
Jack Douglas, and leave something for the 
next day because I want to match the two of 
you on the low hurdles then. We’ll have to 
see where we are before the Ripley meet.” 

‘ ‘ The dual meet with Ripley is the last one 
before the Intercollegiate, isn’t it?” asked 
Larry, dreamily. 

The coach smiled meaningly. 

‘‘It sure is, youngster,” he returned. 
“Here’s hoping you will be in shape to turn 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


323 


the trick on George Miles in that dual meet 
as well as in the Intercollegiate. Jnst be- 
cause he holds the State record is no reason 
why you shouldn't take him into camp. You 
came near enough doing it last time in the big 
boy to scare him into hysterics. Take care 
not to misjudge your pace in the seventh lap 
this time and youTl make him eat the cinders 
from your spikes at the finish. ^ ^ 

That was the very excusable desire of the 
tall athlete, and explained largely his chafing 
under the inability to be more actively pre- 
paring for the big ordeal. However, after 
he did get his feather-weight slippers on once 
more, Gordon enthusiastically assured him 
that the rest actually had done him good, by 
preventing him from going stale, as an over- 
trained runner often finds himself. 

What the lay-otf had taken from him in 
endurance, it had more than restored in buoy- 
ancy to his flying feet; and there was still 
plenty of time to supply stamina for the 
grind. He worked faithfully on the field six 
afternoons a week, and trained just as faith- 
fully in the matter of eating and sleeping. 
He took care to devote plenty of time to the 


324 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


debating be bad added to bis schedule of class 
work, but somehow arranged bis time to make 
a place for everything by keeping on the go. 

The weeks passed, leaving a majority of 
victories in baseball and an unbroken line of 
triumphs on the track. Whiting, Kenwood, 
and Griffon all had been easily defeated in 
dual clashes ; but this was customary as none 
of the three ever had more than second-class 
calibre in track and field. Ripley was not 
counted upon as a formidable rival as far as 
the winning of the dual meet was concerned, 
but interest lay in the calculation of how 
greatly Ripley’s few bright stars would cut 
into Rockwood’s points in the State cham- 
pionship. Rockwood and Hilton did not meet 
usually until the Intercollegiate contest, and 
this last dual meet showed the prospects of 
the Crimson and Grey for a fourth consecu- 
tive victory. 

Thus far, Larry’s running mate in the two- 
mile, a Junior named Dailey, had been able 
to pull second out of the meets, but few ex- 
pected him to place in the Intercollegiate and 
it was conceded that he could not hope for 
better than a poor third when Miles and 


THE TWO-MILE KECORD 


325 


Larry responded to the crack of the starter’s 
pistol. Except for accidents, one of these 
two wonld beat the other to the tape by a 
narrow margin. Although Miles should have 
ruled the favorite on account of his previous 
success it was a matter of even speculation 
at Rockwood who the victor would be. It was 
persistently rumored in metropolitan sport- 
ing columns that a western record might be 
shattered as a result of the fierce compe- 
tition, and much more confidently asserted 
that the State record for the two-mile would 
have a second or two clipped off, either at this 
dual meet or in the Intercollegiate. 

This was the state of affairs when the 
Ripley track squad, with a host of Scarlet and 
Cream supporters journeyed to Red Oaks 
in the latter part of May, just two weeks be- 
fore the Intercollegiate event, set for June 
tenth. By the attitude of the Ripley rooters 
it was seen their interest lay more in the 
two-mile, the quarter, the hurdles and the 
weight events, in all of which their best men 
were entered, than in the outcome of the four- 
teen events as a whole. 

The speed of the track was made apparent 


326 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


when Tommy Lane won the hundred-yard 
dash, the first thing called, in ten and one- 
fifth seconds. Second and third places went 
to Ripley. 

Wallie captured first honors in the high 
hurdles next, in sixteen seconds flat. A lanky 
Scarlet and Cream hurdler took second place, 
barely beating out Douglas. 

Rockwood took her third victory when the 
mile run was called, as Wheeler loped most 
of the distance practically alone, in his long, 
steady stride which never faltered. 

Ripley rooters were given their first chance 
to cheer when the results of the discus throw 
were announced, Jacobson having been de- 
feated by a cast of a little more than one hun- 
dred and thirty feet. The husky freshman 
got his revenge, however, in the shot put, 
with Ward and Brown taking the remaining 
points. 

Firsts in both the high jump and broad 
jump, annexed by Dawes, put Rockwood so 
comfortably in the lead that the Crimson and 
Grey students were not the least downcast 
when Lane dropped the two-twenty to Rip- 
ley. 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


327 


Irving, the captain of last year’s team and 
a veteran quarter-miler, was sorely missed 
when that race was called. Davis, who had 
been Irving’s nnderstndy for three years, 
jumped into the lead and sprinted at break- 
neck speed all the way, hoping to run Covey 
off his feet. The Ripley star, however, clung 
tenaciously to the leader’s heels all the way 
down the hack stretch, running a heady race 
well within his strength. As they rounded 
the curve Covey cut to the inside of the track 
and let out his speed which increased with 
every hound until he drew up on even terms 
with Davis. It was apparent that Davis had 
tired himself, as his effort to jump into a 
sprint to the tape was unavailing. Urged 
on by the crowd, Covey exerted every ounce 
of physical energy he could call upon and 
breasted the tape in fifty seconds even. 
Eockwood adherents, with true sportsman- 
ship, joined in the ovation given the quarter- 
miler when the time was announced. 

All this time the pole vault was going on in 
its slow, but nevertheless spectacular way. 
Ned, who had been vaulting in perfect form, 
was robbed of first place by an unfortunate 


328 LAKEY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


accident, the pole he was used to having 
snapped on his first trial at eleven feet four 
inches when he and Douglas were the only 
ones left in the event. His teammate took 
the prize as Ned was unable to accustom him- 
self to a strange pole soon enough to do any 
better. 

The same thin Ripley hurdler who had 
taken second in the high flight, came back in 
the low hurdles in good time. Wallie was 
defeated by a yard, with Douglas a close 
third. 

After a hard race. Carter obtained five 
points more for the Crimson and Grey in 
the half-mile. Ripley half-milers nosed out 
Holland, a freshman, for the remaining 
points, and the boy collapsed at the finish. 
No one had expected him to place better than 
fourth, but he was bitterly disappointed and 
wept silently into the folds of his blanket 
as Gordon and Larry wrapped him warmly 
and carried him to the enclosure within the 
track. While they were quieting him the call 
for the two-mile was made. 

Larry threw off his bathrobe and went out 
to warm up for the race. Miles was already 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


329 


on the track, and simnltaneonsly they ex- 
tended their hands in the spirit of sports- 
manship almost every champion can be 
counted upon to exhibit. 

‘^It’s enough to scare the rest of ns to go 
up against you again, ^ ’ Larry remarked with 
a smile. 

‘^It should be your turn to-day, after my 
having the luck last spring,’^ Miles returned 
heartily. don’t want to hand the record 
to you, but I rather think I’ll have to do 
that very thing from the two-mile time in 
last Saturday’s meet. Well, may the best 
man win! It’s your day.” 

‘^It does look as if the luck had broken 
with us to-day so far,” the sophomore re- 
joined. ‘‘There’s another first that I hope 
may be a good sign.” 

He referred to the outcome of the hammer 
throw, which the announcer had just credited 
to Plugger Brown, with Jacobson second. 
Miles nodded, then drew his number from one 
of the official’s hats and took the pole. Larry 
drew number three and took that station, with 
another Ripley man inside him. 

“Fine chance for us to ‘pocket’ you, isn’t 


330 LAKEY BUKKE, SOPHOMORE 

it ? ’ ’ laughed the record-holder. ‘ ^ Well, don ’t 
be afraid of any such thing on our part. I 
mean it when I say I want the best man to 
win, and 1^11 do my part to see that every one 
gets a square chance.^’ 

^‘Are you ready?” called the starter. 

Larry could not reply. He nervously 
clenched his dampened fingers, dug his 
spikes into the firm cinder path and leaned 
forward. The two inside him and the 
three on the outside similarly leaned against 
the light breeze, waiting on a straining 
tension for the sound that would unleash 
them. 

^^Set!” commanded the starter, pointing 
his pistol to the sky. The report sent the 
entire line off together. 

Miles took the lead and set a terrific pace 
considering the distance they were to go. 
Larry calmly refused to be pulled out of the 
stride he was used to running, and was con- 
tent to drop back some four yards on the back 
stretch. Then when the leader settled him- 
self in his tireless swing, the same stride 
that fitted himself, Larry slowly closed up 
the little gap and hung grittily to the lead- 


the TWO-MILE RECORD 


331 


ers. The stands rose to cheer them as they 
came around on the first lap of the quarter- 
mile track. 

“Rah! Rah! Rah! Rah! 

Ripley ! Ripley ! Ripley ! ’ ’ 

This yell was followed by three cheers for 
Miles, but a crashing ^Varsity “locomotive’’ 
overtook this shout half-way and drowned it 
in the roaring din. Then the Rockwood yell- 
leader swung his arms in the air and nine 
“Rahs” for Burke were hammered out from 
the solid Rockwood sections. It was inspir- 
ing enough, but Larry turned his eyes to the 
front and refused to become excited. This 
race was to be run with his head as well as 
his heels, and he needed all his attention for 
the work before him. 

Dailey, who also was cheered, came up 
from fifth place to take the lead for the second 
lap. He lost it to Miles when he started to 
let up on the back stretch. When the Ripley 
star was not content to let Dailey break the 
wind for him, it showed Larry conclusively 
that he wanted to set a fiery pace. Dailey 
dropped back into second place, where he soon 


332 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

began to labor with the strain of staying 
with the gait. 

At the beginning of the third lap, the sec- 
ond Ripley man moved np ahead of Dailey, 
and Larry lengthened his pace to take up the 
lost ground between them. He moved up 
quietly to second place when he saw a golden 
opportunity to cut in next to the curb on the 
turn. Now he hooked his gaze on the mov- 
ing shoulders ahead and prepared to stick 
close to them. 

The laboring contestants swayed steadily 
on and on with a careful economy of move- 
ment in every far-reaching stride that hun- 
grily ate up the distance. The easy speed of 
the two leaders elicited comment from old 
track heroes who had hit the same pace in for- 
mer days on this or some other cinder path 
in similar grinds. 

There was no breaking down of Miles ’s re- 
morseless pace in the fourth, fifth, or sixth 
laps. He had set his speed, and with the reg- 
ularity of a machine he maintained it, without 
self-pity for the exhausting strain. Larry 
too was now running mechanically, locked in 
the leader’s stride. His knees seemed to 


THE TWO-MILE EECORD 


333 


rise of their own accord. The track simply 
flowed back beneath him as he toiled at the 
treadmill of his fancy. 

The hot air steamed np from the track; 
it seemed to choke him with gaseous fumes 
he knew were not there in reality — ^hut he 
could no longer see clearly enough to distin- 
guish if they were or were not before his eyes. 
Beads of sweat, shaken from his forehead, 
dropped into his eyes. He could see only an 
occasional flash of color in the stands or catch 
the reflection of the sun from the timers’ 
bright-faced watches. Except for such 
things forced upon his attention, he was con- 
scious only of the swaying shoulders ahead, 
the gasping breath of himself and the man 
before him, and the methodical ^‘pum — ^pum 
— pum” as their spikes jabbed forward into 
the cinders. 

Time and again, Larry felt his body 
rhythm slacken a trifle, and ever he jerked 
the legs to their former task. The tendency 
became more insistent every second to chop 
the far reach of each step, but he had re- 
solved on no compromise. He would not 
grant himself respite from this labor. 


334 LAKRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


His muscles were being clogged with ex- 
haustion, and his mind was dulled with the 
same weariness of the body. It seemed the 
world consisted of only Miles and himself, 
strangely dropped into a gulf of fatigue, 
where all effort was slowed and diminished 
by intense dullness of body and spirit. But 
with it all, his heart was pumping an imper- 
ative ‘‘must^^ into his reeling brain. 

‘‘Miles is just as bad, may be worse, he 
kept telling himself. This consolation helped 
to convince him he had as much reserve 
power for the sprint as the leader had been 
able to retain. 

The rest of the field was lost eighty yards 
in the rear by the time the two leaders real- 
ized that they were well along on their seven 
and next to the last lap. Miles, uninten- 
tionally shortened his stride a little to begin 
saving power for the final sprint. Without 
knowing it, Larry followed the example and 
found it rested him somewhat. The circula- 
tion of the blood in his calves had become 
restricted as a result of the same inexorable 
pace, and cramps seemed imminent in the 
numbed muscles until the change sent a new 


THE TWO-MILE EECORD 


335 


supply of blood into bis legs to freshen him 
with renewed life and vigor. 

The seventh lap is usually the one which 
spells victory or defeat in the two-mile race. 
As he wearily dragged himself over the rack- 
ing course, Larry began to estimate and com- 
pare his strength with that of Miles, with en- 
couragement as a result. The record-holder 
was rocking from side to side in his dizzy, 
indomitable effort. 

Larry knew he was not as far gone as that. 
The spring and eagerness of his stride, he 
knew, was lost in flat-footed padding along 
as the arch was robbed of its bounce, but 
he had not shortened his stride with as little 
hope of lengthening it again. The even 
movement of the thigh and back muscles were 
slackening; but when the gun, denoting the 
last lap, smote his ear, he lifted into a livelier 
gait. 

In the concentration of the strain, the soph- 
omore closed his eyes for a moment, tight- 
ened his chest muscles and bore on hard. 
He opened his eyes again to see Miles run- 
ning stride for stride beside him, his facial 
muscles distorted and the cords of his neck 


336 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


contracted in a frenzy of determination. 
Miles looked as if lie saw the blackness of 
lost consciousness shutting down and was 
making his last fight to stand off failure. 

Again Larry let himself out, on the back 
stretch. Miles was no longer ahead, no 
longer by the side of him. How far back 
he was, Larry did not know. He could not 
turn to look — he had more important work 
to do. He felt assured that the victory was 
his, if he could only maintain the sprint he 
had started. Now Larry was thinking of the 
record. This was the stage of the running 
when valuable fifths of a second might be 
clipped from the time, with a few more ounces 
of determined effort. 

On the last curve he caught his muscles let- 
ting down again. For the last time he lifted 
himself bodily into the gruelling pace. He 
could rest afterward — ^now he must push up 
the pressure to higher and higher exertion. 

He fixed his eyes upon the finish. Some- 
times it seemed to be fiowing perceptibly to- 
ward him. At other times his tricky eye- 
sight almost convinced him the two uprights 
and the thread of yarn held by the judges of 


THE TWO-MILE RECORD 


337 


tRe finish, moved further and further away. 
He had little room for any feeling save that 
of weariness. Now and then a misstep 
rocked him sidewise, as a heavy wave stag- 
gers a man waist-deep in the surf, but he 
was not conscious of his grotesque reeling. 

A great roar on his right dinned into his 
ears. Rolling his eyes toward the rocking 
stands he saw five thousand people, swaying 
forward, waving their arms, moving their 
lips. From out of that throng there drifted 
a thunderous clamor as heavy as that of an 
angry sea. It did not interest him. He 
turned his eyes away. A shout from the 
green enclosure inside the curb, a voice shrill 
and pleading called on him to give the final 
punishment to his tired legs. He wondered 
why Gordon was so excited. 

Fifteen yards away stood the timers, watch 
in hand, waiting. Larry shut his eyes again 
as he contracted his facial muscles with the 
general increased tension. He tried espe- 
cially to reach further with each stride, hut 
merely succeeded in catching the spikes in 
the hard path in too low a step. The unusual 
strain snapped his slender shoe-lace. On 


338 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the next step he cast the loosened slipper and 
with it the chamois ‘‘pusher’^ which pro- 
tected his foot. 

He almost fell with the unevenness of his 
gait, but recovered his balance and plunged 
on. A few more strides, and the bit of yarn 
snapped across his chest. 

Almost instantly he was seized by Ned and 
Gordon. Tossing one arm over the shoul- 
der of each he limped over to the grassy 
trackside and waited for the spiked shoe 
the clerk of the course had picked up out of 
Miles’s path. 

The Ripley two-miler seemed much more 
exhausted than Larry, but in a few minutes 
walked over to congratulate the sophomore 
who had defeated him. At the same moment 
the announcer raised his megaphone and 
shouted up into the stands: 

‘^The two-mile is won by Burke of Rock- 
wood. Miles of Ripley is second; Dailey of 
Rockwood is third. The time is nine minutes, 
forty-nine seconds, flat. This cuts two and 
four-fifths seconds from the State record for- 
merly held by Mr. Miles.” 


CHAPTER XV 

LABKY^S DISAPPOINTMENT 

Thinking that the cinders which tore his 
foot when he cast his shoe at the finish of the 
two mile had caused only a slight wound, 
Larry failed to care properly for the injury. 
He neglected to wait for the squad physician 
to cauterize the cuts, and in his haste over- 
looked even a few particles of dirt in washing 
it under the cold shower. He merely wound 
a handkerchief about his instep, dressed hur- 
riedly, and went out to keep an appointment 
with Jane Hale and Helene Ware, who were 
waiting with Ned in the bleachers. 

The rest of the day and on Sunday his left 
foot pained him when he walked, and he took 
occasion to rest it whenever he could, hut he 
joked about it and prophesied it would soon 
he all right. The next day it was swollen, 
however, and he told Ned to explain to Gor- 
don he would not be out to track practice un- 
til the day following. This was enough to 
339 


340 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


bring the track coacb and tbe squad physi- 
cian around to see him at the close of the 
afternoon’s work. The doctor whistled 
when he unwrapped the bandage and uncov- 
ered the injury. 

^^Why didn’t you call me before?” he de- 
manded, seriously. ^‘This is not a thing to 
pass over lightly. I don’t want to frighten 
you needlessly, but really blood-poisoning has 
set in after smaller and cleaner scratches 
than these. You should never have given this 
a start of forty-eight hours.” 

^‘Why, I didn’t want to be too finicky with 
a little thing like that. I didn’t want to be 
babied just because I paddled over a few 
rough cinders barefooted. I’ve done that as 
a kid and it never phased me,” the sopho- 
more objected. 

'‘All right, my boy; but you’ll be babied for 
the next day or two, anyway. You have 
positive orders to rest that foot for two days 
while I give it treatment. Then we’ll take 
another hour to discuss the thing you should 
have done at first.” 

"Of course, if you say so. Doctor, I’ll lay 
up with it, ’ ’ Larry agreed reluctantly. "I’m 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 341 

not going to stay in long enough to lose 
my wind for the big meet though; am I, 
Coach?’’ 

We’ll talk that over two days from now,” 
Gordon stated decisively. ^‘You know if the 
doc says to lay up, that’s all there is to it; 
so don’t argue the affair. You’re under or- 
ders now from him.” 

The next day the foot and ankle continued 
to puff up, and the pain became more acute, 
in spite of all the physician’s attentions. By 
Tuesday night Larry found it impossible to 
sleep. In the nervous tedium of illness he 
began to do all the foolish things that occur 
to the average patient, to reckon the number 
of cubic feet in the room, to count the neat 
little figures in the wall paper as they could 
be seen in the dim light of the student lamp. 

After a while these faded out of his sight 
and grotesque triangles, circles, and other 
mathematical figures in black and white ap- 
peared. Next they filled themselves auto- 
matically with black and white dots which 
danced crazily, from left to right, up and 
down, and then raced madly about the walls. 

Running the two-mile,” stated Larry to 


342 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


himself. ‘‘See, there goes Miles! 1^11 bet 
on Miles this time.’’ 

He sat up in bed and was cheering weakly, 
when Ned ran in from the next room. Larry 
pointed out the fluctuating creatures of his 
feverish brain and tried to explain that ev- 
erything would be all right if he could ar- 
range things somehow so that one of the 
walls could be left blank. Ned wisely re- 
fused to argue with him. He slipped out of 
the room and telephoned for the doctor. 

In a flash all the fantastic forms in the 
room went out, and Larry found himself 
thinking and talking sane and reasonable 
things for a while; but by the time the phy- 
sician had arrived he was delirious once more. 
By dawn he was stupefied, and in his semi- 
consciousness he was unable to recognize any 
of his old friends. His left foot and leg 
were a veritable puff-ball and other alarm- 
ing symptoms developed which made it advis- 
able to remove him to the city hospital. 
After a great deal of serious thought, Ned 
hurried to the telegraph office and sent a de- 
tailed account of Larry’s illness to Dad Rus- 
sell, leaving him the unpleasant task of tell- 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 


343 


ing Mr. and Mrs. Burke in a way which would 
not alarm them more than the occasion de- 
manded. 

Larry’s parents arrived Wednesday after- 
noon, and his mother remained during the 
next two weeks. Mr. Burke was compelled to 
leave again the second day, but kept in touch 
of the situation by long distance telephone 
three times a day, dropping all business af- 
fairs at his steel mills early in the next week, 
putting Ned’s father in complete charge and 
returning to Red Oaks again. 

Day by day, Larry’s condition remained 
almost the same, as his strong reserve 
strength combated the ravages of the dis- 
ease. The thought of the Intercollegiate 
meet upon which he had set his heart was a 
sore disappointment which took much of his 
time when he was rational, and it wrung the 
hearts of his parents to hear him rave for his 
track shoes whenever he imagined the call 
for the two-mile was being given. The after- 
noon of the meet it was the worst. 

‘‘No, not the indoor spikes. Jack!” he 
would call. “Ask Ned, he knows. There 
they are, those are mine. Wallie, will 


344 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

you throw them over? Hurry, please, old 
man. He made the last call for the two- 
mile, and we need five points to win the 
trophy. I guess it’s up to me, though I 
don’t feel quite up to snuff to-day. Funny 
too. Jack says I shouldn’t go stale on the 
practice I’ve had this week. There, that 
shoe fits like a glove; but we’ll need a new 
lace for this left one. Get it, will you, 
Wallie? Hurry, Fresh, hurry! Oh, excuse 
me old pal, I didn’t mean to shout at you that 
way, but my head keeps going round and 
round. Honest, Ned, I do feel kind of under 
the weather. I wish Mother could put her 
hand on my head, that would fix it.” 

Ned, Wallie, and Dave choked as they stood 
silently in the quiet ward, listening to the 
incoherent sentences which followed. 

‘‘Mr. Burke, I can’t go out there and pole 
vault when he isn’t with me,” Ned broke 
out as he prepared to leave, on the afternoon 
of the meet. 

“I can’t, either,” added Wallie. “I’m 
afraid I couldn’t see a hurdle to-day.” 

“His mother and I would much rather you 
would go,” returned Mr. Burke. “It’s what 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 345 

Larry would want. He has his heart all set 
on Rockwood winning this meet, you know, 
and he would never forgive, himself if three 
of the best point-winners were kept out on 
his account, instead of himself alone. You 
go out and do it to please him.’’ 

With a hand- shake, Mr. Burke sent the two 
track men on their way, while Silent Dave 
tried to make himself useful in assisting the 
nurse to lift Larry into a comfortable posi- 
tion among the pillows. 

Out on the cinder path a little later, Wallie 
warmed up for the high hurdles, a-quiver 
with eager nervousness. Since he had won 
his heat in the event, Wheeler had scored five 
points in the mile, and Plugger Brown had 
added one point in the discus, but Rockwood 
had been shut out of points in the quarter, 
and the high jump. Wallie knew all the 
points he could gather in would be needed, 
and for that reason he steadied himself as 
the starter called the winners of the trial 
heats to the line. 

With the command to set, his tense muscles 
made ready for the spring. He did not re- 
member the hang of the pistol, which re- 


346 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


leased him automatically it seemed. There 
was but one idea pounding through his brain 
as he rose out of the haze of the start to meet 
the first hurdle rushing at him, — that was to 
do his utmost to win for Rockwood. 

As he rose over the second stick he saw 
an interminable line of others drifting toward 
him. The brilliant coloring in the stand 
caught his eye, and his knee scraped the third 
fiight. He pulled his attention back to the 
race and saw that a maroon-and-black shirted 
athlete held the lead while a dark green shirt 
was drawing abreast of him. 

‘‘Must win! Must win! Must win!’’ 

This hurried demand beat back into his 
mind, as he half-closed his eyes and bore on 
with all his strength. At the fifth line he had 
gained a little. At the seventh he summoned 
his courage to glance to his left where the 
dark green was fading out of his vision. 
He realized he was now second, that there 
remained but one man for him to pass. 

For the first time he heard the tremendous 
clamor of the stands, crowded with their hol- 
iday throng. He dared not look there, for he 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 


347 


was clearing the eighth flight. He could dis- 
tinguish a great cheer, most familiar to him 
— half of that crowd was calling upon him. 

‘‘Must win! Must win! Must win!’’ 

His heavy brain was taunted by the neces- 
sity. One, two, three, four, — and his face 
was distorted as he lifted his leaden feet 
across the sticks. One, two, three, four — he 
jerked his lithe body over the last flight, 
alighting with his body pitched well forward 
for the sprint to the tape. 

There was a crash upon his left, and the 
freshman imagined, more than saw, a maroon- 
and-black striped figure topple limply over 
the hurdles. One, two, three, four, five, he 
hurled his chest at the thread of yam, breast- 
ing it two yards ahead of his nearest com- 
petitor. 

“Wallie won the high hurdles and Wheeler 
took the mile,” Dave informed Larry five 
minutes later as he came up from the tele- 
phone. 

“That’s good. Say, that’s bully!” Larry 
exclaimed, much reassured. His feverishly 
bright eyes lighted up as he added: “I’ll not 


348 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


have to run at all if that good work keeps up. 
I was figuring on only three points in the high 
hurdles.’’ 

A little later he was told how Jacobson 
had added a point in the shot put. Then 
came the welcome news both Jacobson and 
Brown had scored in the hammer, all three 
of the weight events having been won by Rip- 
ley’s giant veteran. In the final of the hun- 
dred-yard dash Tommy Lane had gained 
second. Both of the dashes were conceded 
to Hilton which was also assured of the high 
jump as well as the broad jump. 

Now was the time when Ned and Jack 
Douglas were mounting up in the pole vault. 
In the last two weeks, Ned had become ac- 
customed to a new pole, a thinner, lighter, 
and more springy stick than he had used be- 
fore, and time and again he shot up into the 
air and arched himself over the bar with 
graceful agility. 

Jack Douglas, more stockily built, had more 
difficulty in worrying over the cross stick, but 
was still in when a Reynold’s senior and a 
wiry little sophomore from Kenwood were 
the only aspirants for first honors. The 


LABRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 


349 


sophomore went out at eleven feet six inches, 
and Douglas dropped next at eleven-seven. 
The Reynolds College representative looked 
as if he would tie Ned at eleven ten, but after 
two failures, Ned cleared the bar and took 
the gold prize. 

The half-mile went easily to Hilton, hut 
Carter landed one point. The Green also 
took first in the finals of the low hurdles, and 
the two-twenty dash, but Douglas and Wallie 
tied for second and third in the first while 
Lane got one point in the sprint. 

With the broad jump and the two-mile run 
remaining, Rockwood had a total of thirty- 
two points, largely the result of her many 
seconds and thirds, with the three firsts 
scored by Wallie, Ned, and Wheeler. Con- 
ceding Hilton first in the broad jump, and 
second in the two-mile, the Green would be 
still two points short, even provided the 
Crimson and Grey should not score again. 
Mileses five points in the long distance run 
would raise his team to twenty-six points, 
the nearest to the lead that the Scarlet and 
Cream ever had been in the Intercollegiate. 
Dave figured this out from the telephonic re- 


350 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


suits lie had scored, and went to tell Larry of 
the victory. 

Through the open window came the trill of 
a postman^s whistle far down the street. 
Larry started up on his elbow, exclaiming: 

<< There, I guess I know that! That’s the 
clerk of the course and it’s the last call for 
the two-mile. What time is it. Jack I Yes, 
that’s right. No, I don’t need any more of 
a rub-down. This will do, but I must have 
a new shoe-lace. No, don’t bother. I’ll get 
my own shoestring.” 

The invalid tried to swing his feet out of 
bed, but Mr. Burke and Dave held his shoul- 
ders down and succeeded in calming him, a 
trifle. 

‘‘It’s all right, Larry!” Dave shouted in 
his ear. “We aren’t running any two-mile 
this afternoon. We don’t have to, we’ve won 
the meet already. Do you understand, we ’ve 
won the meet! It’s all over and we’ve won. 
Now, see; all you have to do is to sleep on 
the good news.” 

“We’ve won,” repeated Larry, vacantly. 
“We’ve won. Well, then, I don’t care much 
about that one race this afternoon. I didn’t 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 


351 


feel much like a race, anyway. I’m going to 
sleep. Good night. ’ ’ 

When the doctor came in a half hour later, 
he declared this was the first restful sleep 
the stricken sophomore had obtained in al- 
most two weeks. He promised that it would 
be beneficial in the extreme. So it seemed, 
for the next morning Larry awoke from his 
sixteen-hour nap in a perfectly normal con- 
dition of mind, realizing but little of what 
had happened, but delighted to see his par- 
ents again. 

^‘He’s safe now,” declared the physician, 
with a sigh of relief. 

Spangler, now thoroughly recovered from 
his severe burns, called the first thing after 
breakfast with some of the Pi Sigs. They 
gave a full account of Miles ’s hollow victory 
in the two-mile. With Dailey, Larry’s team- 
mate, and Kelly of Hilton practically the only 
contestants who were able to make the race 
interesting. Miles had not been forced to ex- 
ert himself. He had not come within five 
seconds of his own time for the year before. 
Larry was so far calmed by this time that he 
listened to the recital without a word. 


352 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


His recovery from this time on was but a 
matter of time. The pain became less as the 
swelling subsided in his leg and soon the boys 
were giving out the most optimistic reports 
from the Pi Sig house to the dozens of eager 
inquirers every day. A few more days saw 
Larry back in his own room at the fraternity 
house, where he was given his examinations 
by special permission of the faculty. Three 
weeks of regular lectures and recitations had 
been missed, but thorough reviews of lecture 
notes and a few summaries enabled him to 
get through the test without falling below a 

With the first of the next week, that of 
Commencement, he was able to stroll about 
the campus with frequent rests, and picked 
up his old strength wonderfully fast. While 
not able to engage in any sport, he enjoyed 
some of the annual contests such as the base- 
ball games between the faculty and the sen- 
ior class, and the active chapter and Pi Sig 
alumni. The faculty-senior game was espe- 
cially replete with unique plays which made 
it well remembered. 

Three of the ’Varsity nine were seniors. 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 353 

Vance, Johnson, and Fleming, so the gradua- 
ting class did not want for a pitcher, a third 
baseman, and a center-fielder. The last two 
could be counted upon to bat with the best and 
the faculty selected the youngest professor 
to pitch against them. Professor Hecht — 
backed up by venerable grey-beards at sec- 
ond and short-stop, although younger men 
covered the other sacks — took the pitcher’s 
box with little confidence. 

The way Johnson landed on the first ball 
pitched did not help to lend assurance. He 
drove the horsehide so far over the right 
fielder’s head that it was relayed in just in 
time to hold him on third base. The next 
senior up poked a slow roller toward third 
and the assistant professor in history fell 
over himself in his eagerness to reach the ball. 
Johnson dashed home for the first run. 
When the ball was finally recovered, the his- 
tory scholar heaved it over the head of his 
colleague on first. 

The right fielder returned to catch the sen- 
ior as he slid to third, but again the history 
professor dropped the ball. The stands 
rocked with hysterical joy as he dug up the 


354 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

elusive leather and threw it to Professor 
Hecht. The third baseman was on his mettle 
now, and with the brilliancy of forgotten days 
executed a double play just a little later. 

The third out was still more sensational. 
The batsman hoisted a parabola to deep cen- 
ter and the learned doctor of divinity out 
there made a noble attempt to drop back in 
time to spear it; still on the run, he reached 
up to pluck the ball down over one shoulder 
but the sun bothered him and the ball slipped 
through his fingers into the breast pocket of a 
roomy fiannel shirt one of the other baseball 
players had loaned for the occasion. He 
jerked it out, whirled, and held up the white 
object. 

Loud applause greeted his catch, but his 
conscience would not let him rest until he 
had explained to President Builton, the um- 
pire. The catch stood. 

This performance was equalled only by 
Professor Shirley ^s remarkable performance 
in batting. In the days when he had cap- 
tained the championship teams in 1894 and 
1895, he had been a terror for his stick-work, 
and Vance determined to take no chances with 


LAKEY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 


355 


him. Professor Hecht was on first, but there 
were two outs and the seniors could afford to 
give the former crack batsman a base on balls 
rather than risk a clean hit. 

Vance pitched a wide out that could never 
have been reached if the bat had been held 
at arm^s length. To make his intentions 
more obvious, he followed with one still wider. 
Professor Shirley moved over but was still 
unable to reach the third ball, and regretfully 
poised himself for the fourth. This came 
just like the others, and the batsman deliber- 
ately flung his bat at it to show his scorn of 
this trick and started to trot to first base. 
By some strange accident the flying ash club 
struck the ball squarely and it rose like a 
flushed quail. 

Before the stunned and rattled infielders 
could recover themselves the jubilant pro- 
fessor was chuckling on first base, and Pro- 
fessor Hecht had moved around to third. 
President Builton was called upon to decide a 
question no other umpire had ever had put 
up to him. He laughingly termed the hit 
legal and it was so scored. 

Professor Curtis galloped down to first 


356 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


base to do a little coaching. He had scarcely 
reached the coacher’s box when a sharp hit 
was driven down to second base, where it 
was gathered in on the first bounce by a 
short-sighted senior who was so much ex- 
cited that he lost his nose-glasses. 

Professor Curtis was clapping his hands 
and performing various antics to show his 
glee as he saw Professor Hecht race home for 
the first run. The senior thought these ges- 
tures were a call for the ball as the faculty 
member was the more active of the two fig- 
ures his short-sighted eyes dimly discerned, 
and immediately chucked the pellet straight 
at Professor Curtis, making a fine, swift 
throw. 

The ball struck the excited coacher squarely 
in the diaphragm, and he took more interest 
in decorating the bench for the rest of the 
game than in playing. 

A few more weird plays put the bleachers 
into such a holiday humor the undergradu- 
ates howled with joy at every misplay and 
freak occurrence. Larry had not seen more 
genuine sport displayed for weeks, and 
laughed until he was fairly weak when the 


LARRY’S DISAPPOINTMENT 


357 


professor of divinity late in the seventh in- 
ning shnt his eyes and hammered ont a home 
run. Lnck seemed to be against the seniors, 
and the old stars, erratic as they were, ended 
with the big end of an eight to six score. 


CHAPTER XVI 

THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 

Class Hay, Interscholastic Hay, Alumni 
Hay and Commencement Hay all held their 
share of interest this Commencement week. 
Larry’s parents after a week at Burketon 
returned again to Red Oaks, bringing his 
sister Horothy. Had Russell also found 
time to run down on Alumni Hay to hold a 
reunion with his class and his old chums of 
the Pi Sig chapter, as well as to plan a few 
details for his trip with Ned and Larry into 
northern Labrador. 

Forced to be something of a spectator 
rather than an actor in the gay spectacle of 
the annual alumni parade about the campus, 
Larry strolled about the beautiful campus 
with his parents, relating with a whimsical 
pride all the rich lore of traditions associated 
with the old stone benches, the ‘‘Old Oak,” 
and other landmarks without end. 

Now and then some member of the faculty 
358 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


359 


passed in his flowing gown marked with scar- 
let, purple, white, blue, or yellow to denote 
his academic, legal, medical or theological 
rank. It was amazing to note how quickly 
their formal dignity was discarded to hail 
some old pal of days never quite forgotten. 

Old faces gleamed with delight. Bent fig- 
ures straightened when former comrades 
shouted the old nicknames with boyish bursts 
of spontaneous enthusiasm. Cards at many 
windows in College Hall showed where every 
class was ‘‘at home.’’ From the rooms in 
which ’98 or ’76 held much the same kind 
of reunion there came bursts of unfamiliar 
cheering, snatches of songs long ago lost in 
previous college generations, uproarious 
shouts of unfeigned delight hailing the wel- 
come arrival of some class favorite. The 
Governor, met with much pomp by the 
faculty council and President Builton, was as 
unconventional as any, when he came face 
to face with “Cutey” Brown, a rugged Kan- 
san who had beat him in his first election 
when both were aspirants for the honor of 
captaining the ’Varsity crew. 

The college band struck up the oldest 


360 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Rockwood song promptly at ten o’clock, and 
the procession formed for the annual march 
through the winding paths of the green 
campus, led by the aged president and class 
orator of the class of ’47, and followed by 
the senior class. 

Past the starting point they filed at last on 
their way to the annual banquet in the gym- 
nasium. The undergraduate students packed 
the steps of College Hall, cheering the 
classes by numerals as they proceeded 
slowly on their way, many distinguished per- 
sons in the front ranks lifting their hats in 
acknowledgment of the courtesy, the mellow 
sunlight gleaming from their white hair as 
they barked out their old-fashioned leisurely 
cheers. Larry did not have to wait for the 
last senior singing to be impressed with the 
traditions of his college. 

In place of the customary ’Varsity- alumni 
baseball game a last contest with Hilton had 
been arranged for the afternoon, so all 
classes headed for the diamond the first 
thing in the afternoon. 

Rockwood already had lost one game to 
Hilton, so that the best that could be hoped 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


361 


for was a tie. Hilton, however, had lost two 
games straight with Eipley, whereas Eock- 
wood had won two ont of three games with 
that college. There still remained a chance 
at the baseball championship, therefore, if 
the ^Varsity could close with this one victory. 
Eockwood supporters turned out in force to 
do their part in rooting for the home nine. 

With the holiday humor upon them, the 
younger alumni, highly respected and staid 
citizens at home, decked out in fantastic garb 
and marched upon the field with battered 
class relics in the lead. There was the ^01 
cigar Indian, first stolen and afterward pur- 
chased to stave off a fine threatened by the 
justice of the peace. There was the sacred 
stutfed ostrich of ^96, with wires strung up 
through its long neck so it could be made to 
how politely in answer to the applause of 
the spectators. There was the decrepit 
transparency, ‘‘Oh, happy papa!” which 
the father of the latest class hoy of 1900 had 
been compelled to bear in the procession for 
the last ten years. There was the custom- 
ary line of go-carts wheeled sedately by 
all the married men of the class of ’03. 


362 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

There were pirates and cannibals, China- 
men and Highlanders, cowboys and foreign 
potentates scattered throughout the motley 
crew. There were scores and scores of these 
jubilant alumni, and when they cleared the 
diamond for action, the Rockwood nine took 
its station with determination to keep them 
in their jovial frame of mind. 

The class boy of 1906 took the ball in his 
tiny fist and threw toward Vance, who 
was starting the game in the box. When the 
laughter and applause had died away, the 
pitcher put his three practice balls across 
the plate and wound up for the real work of 
the afternoon. The Crimson and Grey out- 
fielders filtered out into their tail-grass gar- 
dens. An umpire, brought down from 
Brownstown snapped his watch-case sharply 
and cried: 

^‘Play ball!’’ 

^‘Lay her over, old man!” shouted Walt, 
signalling for a spit ball which he knew 
would break and jump far to the side. The 
grand stand leaned forward breathlessly. 
Even the umpire betrayed a personal inter- 
est in the outcome of the match. Vance shot 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


363 


the ball in like a bullet, and the nervous bats- 
man took a lusty but impotent swing. 

The batter angrily pounded the plate with 
his bat while Walt laughingly replied to the 
raps with: ^^Come in, you’re welcome, you 
don’t have to knock on the door any more.” 

Again Vance’s arm swept around and the 
sphere sped through the air. 

‘^Ball one!” came the verdict. 

The catcher signalled for Vance’s spe- 
cialty, the fade-away. It came revolving 
rapidly with its reverse English, then curved 
down and in. The Hilton player fouled it 
far outside of third base. 

After a second ball, Vance tried a bewil- 
dering slow ball. Straight toward the pan it 
came, wabbling as it lost its motion, and had 
started well on its drop when the batsman 
stepped forward and pounded it to deep cen- 
ter. With the crack of the smashing blow 
the batter darted for first with the speed of 
a startled deer. When he reached the first 
sack he turned and kept his course toward 
second. 

Far out in the field, Fleming, his face in- 
tently upturned, turned and raced across the 


364: LAREY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


smooth turf. With a long leap the veteran 
outfielder speared the fly and whipped it to 
second. The Rockwood nine breathed again 
with relief. 

The second batsman up for Hilton selected 
the second ball delivered by the curve clerk 
of the baseball counter and stung it down to 
Snow, a freshman taking Don’s old position 
at short. The boy gathered the grounder 
in fair shape and by a quick wrist throw 
forwarded it to Smith at first, but not in time 
to catch the runner. Clever work on the 
part of Steele at second resulted, however, in 
an out soon afterward. 

The third green-stockinged player hoisted 
out a high fly to right field, which Dave was 
able to scoop in safely. As a joke, Steele 
deceived the base-runner by pretending to 
field an imaginary grounder to second. The 
cheers from the Hilton sections drowned out 
the leather-lunged coacher’s warning, and as 
Steele straightened up and tossed the pre- 
tended daisy-cutter to Snow, the base-run- 
ner blindly slid for the second base. Before 
he realized what was the actual status of the 
pantomime, the base-runner found himself 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


365 


caught off first base when Dave shot the ball 
in from the outfield. This retired the side. 

With a burst of cheering to hearten them, 
the Rockwood nine changed places with the 
Hilton players. Miller, playing his third sea- 
son in left field, showed his right to top the 
batting order by slashing out a two-bagger. 

Knowing how the third baseman would 
hate to leave the bag unprotected while he 
fielded a bunt in his direction, Johnson al- 
lowed the ball to strike his loosely held bat 
and roll dead toward third. The baseman 
was too anxious to catch Miller in his at- 
tempt to steal the base, and left the bunt for 
Fox, the pitcher, to field. The throw to 
third came too late to catch the base-runner. 

With the carefully planned Rockwood 
system of attack, Johnson made a fake start 
as if to steal second. The short-stop in- 
voluntarily ran to cover the bag, opening up 
short left field for a place hit. That was 
the information Fleming, now in the batter’s 
box, was most eager to gain. Knowing that 
the short-stop would cover second to try for 
Johnson, Fleming tapped out a hit into the 
territory he would have fielded, otherwise. 


366 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


Miller raced home, Johnson took second, and 
Fleming first. Without a single out, one 
run had been scored. 

Steele was up next and was handed a pass, 
forcing the others to move around to third 
and second and filling the bases. Snow 
stepped to the plate and did his best to knock 
a home run. That was his difficulty; the 
freshman was attempting glory for himself 
when all that was needed was a sacrifice. 
He struck out ignominiously, and went back 
to the bench so chastened in spirit that Know- 
land did not have the heart to rebuke him 
further. It was the lesson he would never 
need again in his days of Warsity base- 
ball. Smith followed him in the batting 
order. 

‘‘Knock ’er a mile. Smithy; pound ’er out 
of the lot!’’ called some fan who did not 
realize the beauty of the “inside” game. 

The batsman was not foolish enough to 
jeopardize the chances of the team by follow- 
ing Snow’s example, but, nevertheless, he 
failed. Fox seemed to realize the batter’s 
particular weakness and fed him on under- 
hand spit balls until he sent a pop-up into 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


367 


the hands of the second baseman. Then 
Walt came to bat. 

Although he was probably the weakest hit- 
ter on the nine, Walt was still a valuable 
man for such an emergency owing to the fact 
that he never lost his head. His brain was 
always busy with some stratagem to meet 
the emergency as it arose. He coolly calcu- 
lated his chances of a base on balls on ac- 
count of Fox’s nervousness; but did not wish 
to depend on this if some other opportunity 
offered. Lynch, catcher for the Green, was 
more rattled and Walt decided that he might 
persuade him to make a fatal bobble which 
would let in a run. 

One ball, a strike, and a second ball were 
called. As an unusually low ball came next, 
Walt suddenly hit upon the scheme he 
trusted would work. Without any attempt 
to hit the ball, but simply in an effort to dis- 
concert Lynch, he swung his bat, tossed away 
the stick and made for first. The poor de- 
livery and the strike induced the catcher to 
drop the ball, and the start for first base 
completely rattled him. Clear up in the air, 
he decided that he must have lost track of 


368 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


the strikes and this was the third instead of 
the second, and he threw the hall to first 
without figuring farther that if it were the 
third strike Walt would force Johnson out 
at the plate. 

As soon as Lynch had thrown he realized 
this fact, but too late to repair the damage 
he had done. Johnson already had a big 
lead and stole home before the first base- 
man could return the ball to the plate. 

Walt was called back to take a third 
strike, and fouled out to the third baseman, 
but the Rockwood nine went into the field 
again with two runs to its credit. No home 
run had resulted, and no brilliant playing 
was credited to Walt by half the spectators 
who thought it all an accident, but Dunk 
Knowland nodded wisely and tapped his 
forehead with a significant : 

“Head-work! That^s what makes this 
game worth while. 

Others were playing the same heady game, 
especially Johnson. A dispute as to who 
was the next man at bat delayed Hilton in 
sending a batter to the box. Vance started 
the ball around the bases for a little practice 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 369 

until a batsman was ready, and Johnson 
threw twice to first base, the ball dropping 
short both times by six or eight feet. The 
Hilton captain was not slow to note this. 

‘‘There’s a glass wing on third, all right,” 
he pointed out. “Poke a slow roller to him, 
Taylor; he’s dead slow.” 

Taylor’s specialty was bunting. And 
when he placed a puzzling twister a half- 
dozen yards in front of Johnson he discov- 
ered that the third baseman’s specialty was 
handling just such bunts. The veteran 
scooped up the ball and threw it with one 
motion, and Smith might just as easily have 
caught it with his eyes shut. Too late the 
Green players saw that they had been 
trapped once more. 

The next Hilton batter got his base on 
balls. Then on Vance’s first spit ball, 
pounded over the head of Steele, he went to 
third. Keyed up to a high tension, Vance 
eyed the next man warily before offering 
him a fade-away. 

“Strike one!” called the umpire. 

Walt signaled for another ball, but Vance 
shook his head. Again the batsman failed 


370 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


to connect cleanly with the ball, a low foul 
crashing against the catcher’s mask. Walt 
signalled for a slow ball, but evidently the 
gesture was misunderstood and a fast curve 
down and in followed its two predecessors. 

‘ ‘ Crack ! ’ ’ spoke the heavy bat. 

The skyscraper arched deep into left field 
where Miller pulled it down. The Hilton 
base-runner on third held his base until the 
pellet struck the fielder’s mitt, then sprinted 
fiercely for home. The noise from the 
bleachers swelled to a great roar as the ball 
and the runner raced to the plate. Every 
man stood on his seat and yelled. Vance 
stepped aside. Walt’s hands reached far 
after the ball. The base-runner straight- 
ened out in a long slide. Then dust blurred 
the sight for a moment. 

‘‘Out! Out!” screamed one crowd of par- 
tisans. 

“Safe by a block!” denied the other fans. 

The runner arose and dusted his chest. 
The umpire lifted his hand. Silence fol- 
lowed as the people settled back into their 
seats. The umpire filled his lungs and 
shouted : 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 371 

‘ ^ Safe at home ! Batter up ! ’ ’ 

Vance was anxious to wrangle over the de- 
cision, but Walt waved him back and held 
him steady with his reassuring call : 

^‘That will be all for them this inning. 
Pitch to me, boy. Lay it over, and it^s all 
done but the shouting!^’ 

The batsman was fooled on the wide 
curve and slashed at it in vain. Two balls 
followed. Then he poled out a fly to Silent 
Dave, retiring the side. 

‘^Warm up, Sammy, you may go in this 
next inning,’’ said the coach. ‘^It depends 
on how they sting Vance at the start; they’ve 
been touching him too lively.” 

Dave was the first one up. He drew a 
pass to first on four consecutive balls. 
Then Vance singled to center. Miller sacri- 
ficed to advance the two. Johnson flied out, 
and Vance was caught off second base. 

Notwithstanding the fact that he had been 
touched in the first two innings, Vance was 
allowed to start the third. The first bats- 
man dropped a clean hit out beyond Smith. 
The next one walked, and the third followed 
with a two-base drive along the right foul 


372 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

line, bringing in one run to tie the score. 
With no outs and men on both second and 
third, Vance gave way to Sam Gardiner. 

The Green player attempted a bunt to 
third, but Sammy kept the ball wide on out- 
curves and when the bat was laid against one 
it rolled nearer to him than the batsman had 
intended. Sammy sent the ball to the home 
plate in time to catch the man who was try- 
ing to steal in, then Walt shot the ball on to 
Smith ahead of the runner. Loud applause 
greeted the double play. 

A knuckle ball, although not delivered 
with much control, proved an enigma to the 
Hilton player who struck at it. A fade- 
away went way wild; but a swift straight 
ball clipped the corner of the pan and was 
called a strike. The next ball went a little 
high, but the fourth one was dropped just 
a trifle so the batter had to strike at it or 
have it called on him. It was not as low as 
the green-stockinged veteran wished and he 
popped up an easy fly for Johnson. 

In the next five innings there was no more 
scoring, the two to two tie having spurred 
both teams to fast but ineffectual playing. 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


373 


Eockwood especially seemed to have hit the 
proper stride in the five innings, only nine- 
teen players having faced the Crimson and 
Grey pitcher. The bleachers were wrought 
up to a high pitch of excitement by the 
second half of the eighth inning when Eock- 
wood came to bat again. 

By chance those heading the batting list 
were due to face the Hilton pitcher first. 
Miller had showed himself so capable of long 
hits that Fox regretfully gave him four balls 
rather than allow him an opportunity to 
knock a clean bingle. 

Johnson followed with a drive to left field. 
Fleming stood like a statue while two balls 
and one strike were called; then, picking a 
ball to his liking, he clouted it over the head 
of the second baseman — yet some distance 
short of center-fielder. 

A great shriek of joy went up from the 
bleachers. Every one was on his feet, wav- 
ing his arms and calling on Miller to come 
home to the welcome that awaited the man 
who could make the winning run. The base- 
runner did start for the pan, but saw the ball 
would head him off too soon so he wheeled 


374 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 

and started back for the third sack. John- 
son wisely held the keystone bag so as not 
to crowd Miller off. 

Lynch was waiting eagerly for the ball to 
reach him, and lost no time in relaying it to 
the third baseman. It looked as if Miller’s 
scramble for the base wonld be in vain, un- 
til he left his feet and slid under the ball in 
a blinding cloud of dust which made the um- 
pire’s decision difficult. 

Although coming from Brownstown this 
official was fair enough not to favor the Hil- 
ton team on his verdict, and thus gave the 
base-runner the same benefit of the doubt 
that he had extended to two green-clad play- 
ers earlier in the game. 

^‘Safe all around!” he shouted, when the 
roar of the crowd permitted him to be heard. 

This started a second outburst in the mid- 
dle of which Steele selected his short bat and 
stepped to the plate. It had been Steele’s 
timely hit last spring which had robbed Hil- 
ton of the championship, and the thousands 
of baseball fans, remembering this, called 
on him to duplicate that performance. 

“Now, Larry, aren’t you sorry you don’t 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


375 


play baseball r’ laughed Mr. Burke, as he 
nudged his son. ‘‘You would be a real hero, 
in that case, if you were as good as this fel- 
low. ’ ’ 

Larry merely smiled back, and hoped 
Steele would keep his head sufficiently to 
sacrifice. The outfield expected a long fiy 
which would allow Miller to sprint home 
after the ball had been caught, but Steele 
surprised the fielders by tapping out a fast 
grounder to the third baseman. It did not 
go between short-stop and third as he had in- 
tended, but it drew the baseman so far from 
his sack that he could not stop the runner 
coming down from second, after scooping up 
the brisk bounder. 

A speedy whip of the ball, to the rubber, 
however, headed off Miller, and made the 
first out in the inning. Then the catcher 
relayed the leather pellet to first, just man- 
aging to stop Steele from crossing the base 
in safety. In the meantime Johnson and 
Fleming were hitting it for home at their 
best speed. The first baseman fired the ball 
back to the catcher to get one of them. 

Lynch’s mitt and his “meat” hand were 


376 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


thrust out imploringly but could not hurry 
the ball, and Johnson slid under. He was 
safe by a narrow margin. 

A shout such as had seldom echoed from 
the empty football bleachers to the south, 
swelled from the stands, increasing in its din 
second by second. 

Fleming, in his eagerness to follow John- 
son, was caught floundering between the 
cushions. He turned back toward third, but 
the ball had beat him in that direction, and 
he twisted and turned in vain. His only 
chance was in Lynch or the third baseman 
getting rattled and dropping the ball, and 
neither did this as they closed in from either 
end and made escape impossible. A sudden, 
futile dash for third brought his finish. 

It was perhaps the first triple play where 
a run had been scored. Having been ob- 
tained at such a cost, that run was enthusi- 
astically appreciated. The cheers and con- 
gratulations lasted until long after the Crim- 
son and Grey uniforms had moved out into 
the diamond for the first half of the ninth 
inning. 

‘‘That’s the weirdest baseball I ever saw,” 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


377 


vouchsafed Spangler, from a seat in the row 
back of Larry. 

‘‘Probably the strangest stunt any of us 
ever saw pulled off,’’ returned Larry. 

“By the way, when are you planning to 
leave?” asked the freshman president, step- 
ping down and placing a hand on the shoul- 
der of the freckled sophomore. 

“Not until the day after to-morrow,” re- 
plied Larry; “we are staying over for the 
last senior singing and the rest of those 
stunts, and besides we still have a few ar- 
rangements to make for our camping trip. 

Spangler lowered his voice as he spoke : 

“Then I’ll not see you again this summer, 
I suppose. I’m going out to-night. But I 
want to tell you, Larry, when this soph.- 
fresh. rivalry is done with next September, I 
hope to see more of you and work more with 
you then. Is it a go?” 

“It sure is!” was the sophomore’s hearty 
reply. “These interclass scraps are pretty 
small to break up any friendships, anyway.” 

He laughed merrily as they shook hands. 

“You see,” he explained, “I can look down 
on them now when I’ll soon be an upper- 


378 LARRY BURKE, SOPHOMORE 


classman. Well, wRaUs. everybody yelling 
about r’ 

Larry turned to see tbe Hilton captain 
throw away bis bat with a disgusted air. 

‘‘Struck out!’’ chuckled Mr. Burke. 
“Sam mixed them up and sent them in 
pretty fast, and be — bow do you say it? — 
he ‘wbitfed.’ There, bow’s that slang for an 
old man!” 

“Another week and you would be out 
there playing yourself. Dad,” complimented 
Larry, while bis mother added: 

“Indeed, I believe be would. He’s 
younger to-day than be was twenty years 
ago, to judge from tbe way be talks athletics 
all the time. With Dorothy such an author- 
ity on football, baseball, and track events, 
I’m almost forced to learn something myself. 
See, now wasn’t that what you call a ‘sacri- 
fice’?” 

The batsman had slashed a hot one into 
Steele’s glove and been thrown out easily. 

“No,” spoke Larry critically, “I believe 
I’d term that a disastrous fizzle. You see 
there was no one on a base to be advanced 
by it. It’s just a near-hit, that’s all. They 


THE ALUMNI DAY GAME 


379 


haven’t touched Sam for a clean bingle since 
he’s gone in. I doubt if any one of them 
still has a swat left in his stick.” 

The sharp crack of the bat connected with 
the ball, checked him. He leaned forward 
tensely watching the fly mount up and out 
into right field. Both Fleming and Silent 
Dave raced back for it. 

^‘Mine! I have it!” cried the Western 
freshman. 

He did have it ; and the great crowd in the 
stand breathed a sigh of relief when he 
tossed the ball in to the umpire and followed 
it himself. 

‘‘How’s that for a finale to this glorious 
year*?” cried Larry enthusiastically. 


THE END 

























Larry Burke, Freshman 

By FRANK I. ODELL 
Illustrated by H. C. Edwards $1.25 

T^HIS book bristles with activity ; baseball, foot- 
ball, ice-hockey, basketball, track and field 
events, and a regatta appearing, and each sport 
brought in with expert accuracy of detail, and 
realism that makes one live over his own most 
thrilling athletic experiences. Along with this is 
a charming narrative of student life and comrade- 
ship — the golden days that have no others like 
them. Every boy and man who ever heard of a 
college can take delight in this book. 

“The high tone of most of the boys, their comradeship and good will toward 
one another are felt through the whole book. And if ever a boy deserved friends or 
success, it was the noble-hearted hero of the story, Larry Burke.” — Louisville 
Cou rier-Jou rnal. 

“A boys’ book that is filled with healthy adventure and action from cover to 
cover.” — CiJicinnati Times-Star. 

Tim and Roy in Camp 

By FRANK PENDLETON 
Illustrated by J. W. Kennedy Large 12nio $1.50 

I N this book is crowded a wealth of sport, adven- 
ture, Indian stories, hunting and camping, facts 
about animals encountered, and all that will please 
a boy’s heart. A skilful hunter and trapper takes 
his son, nephew, and two close friends on such a 
hunting and camping trip as their most vivid 
, imagination could not have improved upon. They 
are supremely happy in their enjoyment in all that 
I pertains to the woods, and his camp-fire stories of 
experiences with Indians. Each of the boys has a 
( chance to show his bravery and resourcefulness, 
and each is equal to the occasion, 

“The story is fascinating and contains not one 
thrill too many.” — Chicago News, 

“This is a great book for live, active boys, vigorous, wholesome, instructive 
and entertaining, written by a man who certainly understands and knows boys, 
and who knows how to give them the best kind of a vacation.” — Portland Express, 




For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


FIVE CHUMS SERIES 

By NORMAN BRAINERD 

121110 Cloth Illustrated $1.25 each 


Winning His Shoulder Straps 



A rousing story of life in a military school 
by one who thoroughly knows all its features. 
Bob Anderson, the hero, is a good friend to tie to, 
and each of his four particular friends is a worthy 
companion, with well-sustained individuality. 
Athletics are plentifully featured, and every boy, 
good, bad, and indifferent, is a natural fellow, 
who talks and acts like a bright, up-to-date lad in 
real life. 

“The story throughout ii clean and wholesome, 
and will not fail to be appreciated by any boy reader 
who has red blood in his veins .” — Kennebec Journal, 
“There are school and athletic competitions, 
iranks and frolics and all in all a book of which most 
oy readers will have no criticism to make.” — Spring- 
Jield Republican, 


Winning the Eagle Prize 

T he hero not only works his way at Chatham 
Military School after his father’s financial 
misfortune, but has the pluck to try for a prize 
which means a scholarship in college. It is very 
hard for a lad of his make-up to do the requisite 
studying, besides working and taking a prominent 
part in athletics, and he is often in trouble, for, 
unlike some others, who are naturally antagonistic 
to the frank, impulsive Billy, he scorns to evade 
responsibility. His four friends are loyal to the 
fullest extent, and all comes right in the end. 

“Athletics play a prominent part in the story and the whole is delightfully 
stimulating in the fine ideals of life which it sets before its young readers.” — Chi- 
cago Nevjs, 

“ The workmanship of the author is up to his high mark and this book is one 
to be appreciated by any active reader who has not forgotten his boyhood, or, if he 
is a boy yet, has the real boy spirit, clean, and wholesome and natural .” — Buffalo 
Ne~jjs. 


WINNING THE 
I EAGLE PRIZE 



NORMAN BRAINERD 


For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 



U. S. SERVICE SERIES 

By FRANCIS ROLT -WHEELER 

Illustrations from photographs taken in work for U. S. Government 

Large 12mo Cloth $1.50 per volume 


THE BOY WITH THE U. S. SURVEY 




THE BOY WITH THE 
U.S.SURVEY^ 


A PPEALING to the boy’s love of excitement, 
this series gives actual experiences in the 
different branches, of United States Government 
work little known to the general public. This 
story describes the thrilling adventures of members 
of the U. S. Geological Survey, graphically 
woven into a stirring narrative that both pleases 
and instructs. The author enjoys an intimate 
acquaintance with the chiefs of the various 
bureaus in Washington, and is able to obtain at 
first hand the material for the books. 

“ There is abundant charm and vigor in the narrative 
which is sure to please the boy readers and will do 
much toward stimulating their patriotism by making 
them alive to the needs of conservation of the vast 
resources of their country.” — Chicago News. 

“This is a book one can heartily recommend for^ boys, and it has life 
enough to suit the most eager of them.” — Christian Register y Boston, 



FRANCIS ROLT-WHEELER 


THE BOY WITH THE U. S. FORESTERS 


T he life of a typical boy is followed in all its 
adventurous detail — the mighty representa- 
tive of our country’s government, though young 
in years — a youthful monarch in a vast domain of 
forest. Replete with information, alive with 
adventure, and inciting patriotism at every step, 
this handsome book is one to be instantly 
appreciated. 

“It is at once a most entertaining and instructive 
study of forestry and a most delightful story of boy life 
in the service.” — Cincinnati Times-Star, 

“ It is a fascinating romance of real life in our 
country, and will prove a great pleasure and inspiration 
to the boys who read it."— The Continent y Chicago, 

“ No one beginning to read this book will willingly 
lay it down till he has reached^ the last chapter.’ — 
Christian AdvocatCy Cincinnati. 



For sale by all booksellers, or sen t postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston 


THE BOYS OF BROOKFIELD ACADEMY 

By WARREN L, ELDRED 

liEiistrated by Arthur O. Scott Large 12mo Cloth $1.50 

T his story tells of a boys’ school, with a 
glorious past, but an uncertain future, 
largely due to the wrong kind of a secret 
society, a vital problem in hundreds of schools 
to-day. 

The boys, after testing his patience in every 
way that youthful ingenuity can suggest, come 
lo rally about an athletic and brainy young 
graduate in the splendid transformation of the 
society, and soon of the entire academy, in one 
of the best school and athletic stories yet written. 

“Things are doing all the way through the story, 
which is clean, manly and inspiring.” — Christian 
Endeavor World, 

THE LOOKOUT ISLAND CAMPERS 

By WARREN L. ELDRED 

HEHiiLstrated by Arthur 0.3cott Larg« llmo Cloth $1.50 

T his is a story of active boys of fifteen or so. 

They are very fortunate in the friendship of 
the principal of their school and his friend, an 
athletic young doctor. Under the care of these 
two they go into camp on an island well suited 
to the purpose, and within easy distance of a 
thronged summer resort. A series of exciting 
ball games and athletic contests with the boys 
at the hotel naturally follows, and the boys display 
as many varieties of human nature as could their 
elders. 

“ Mr. Eldred’s book is almost certain to meet with 
a ready response from young readers, for not only are 
the boys filled with life and vigor of a true youthful 
and appreciable variety but their experiences are 
entertaining in themselves and may perhaps give the young readers ideas for 
summer plans of their own .” — Chicago Tribune, 




For sale by all booksellers, or sent postpaid on receipt of price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


Stories of the Triangular League 

By A. T. DUDLEY 

illustrated by Charles Copeland 12mo Cloth $1.25 each 

THE SCHOOL FOUR 

'T'HE events of the story centre in the West- 
* cott School, one of three which have 
formed a new league. The leading forms of 
athletics, including rowing, figure in the gain- 
ing of points towards a championship cup, and 
the rivalry is most intense. At Westcott’s, 
the crowning student honor is the captaincy 
of the school four, and the way in which the 
succession to the coveted position falls to the 
one best deserving it forms the climax. Foot- 
ball is no less prominent in the progress of 
the story than rowing, and both general school 
life and competitive relations with other 
schools are set forth to the life. 

The tone of the book is manly, holding up the honesty and true simplicity 
of the true athlete and setting up a high standard to the sport-loving boy. — 
Public Ledger., Philadelphia, 

Mr. Dudley takes easy lead in strong, vigorous books for young America.— 
Interior^ Chicago, 

At the Home Plate 

T he scene of this book is at a public 
school, “Newbury,” which seeks to win 
a prize cup held by its rival, “ Westcott’s,” 
the winner during the first year of the “Tri- 
angular League. ’ ’ This is hard to accomplish, 
and an important factor is a new student who 
had to overcome the handicap of being the 
brother of an unpopular teacher. There is 
good baseball in this book, but it is hardly 
more prominent than football and hockey. 

No boy who is interested in sports can fail to find 
both pleasure and profit in this lively school story. — 

Portland {Me.) Express. 

A clean, wholesome and thoroughly entertaining tale that every boy ought 
to like. — Cincinnati Times-Star. 

The writer has a vigorous and vivid way of telling his story, and it has every 
excellence that such a book should contain. — Buffalo News. 


For salo by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt oi 
price by the publishers 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., Boston 




X 


tHE B( Y CRAFTSMAN 

1 and Frofitable Ideas for a 

I O'»3uro Honrs 

By A. NBELY HALL 

Illustrated with over 400 diagrams and 
working drawings 8vo Price, $2.00 

E very real boy wishes to design and make 
things, but the questions of materials and 
tools are often hard to get around. Nearly all 
books on the subject call for a greater outlay of 
money than is within the means of many boys, 
or their parents wish to expend in such ways. 
In this book a number of chapters give sugges- 
tions for carrying on a small business that will 
bring a boy in money with which to buy tools 
and materials necessary for making apparatus 
and articles described in other chapters, while 
the ideas are so practical that many an indus- 
trious boy can learn what he is best fitted for in his life work. No work 
of its class is so completely up-to-date or so worthy in point of thorough- 
ness and avoidance of danger. The drawings are profuse and excellent, 
and every feature of the book is first-class. It tells how to make a boy’s 
workshop, how to handle tools, and what can be made with them; how 
to start a printing shop and conduct an amateur newspaper, how to 
make photographs, build a log cabin, a canvas canoe, a gymnasium, a 
miniature theatre, and many other things dear to the soul of youth. 

We cannot imag^ine a more delightful present for a boy than this book.— 
Churchman, JV. T, 

Every boy should have this book. It’s a practical book — it gets righ+ next to 
the boy’s heart and stays there. He will have it near him all the time, and on every 
page there is a lesson or something that will stand the boy in good need. Beyond 
a doubt in its line this is one of the cleverest books on the market. — Providence 
News. 

If a boy has any sort of a mechanical turn of mind, his parents should see that 
he has this book. — Boston Jottrnal. 

This is a book that will do boys good. — Buffalo Express. 

The boy who will not find this book a mine of joy and profit must be queerly 
constituted. — Pittsburgh Gazette. 

Will be a delight to the boy mechanic. — Watchman, Boston^ 

An admirable book to give a boy. — Newark News, 

This book is the best yet offered for its large number of practical and profitable 
Ideas. — Milwaukee Free Press. 

Parents ought to know of this book. —New Fork Globe. 



For sale by all booksellers or sent postpaid on receipt of 
price by the publishers» 

LOTHROP, LEE & SHEPARD CO., BOSTON 


6S4 I 





















o'' f '. V* 



rS 


0 


H .'/I 


:W/At * 


' 'A. v'^' 


V * 0 



y ^ 


V' A^' 

t/^ ^ 


M X '*^N.\j ^ J A X ^ t lA ^ 

<• ^ %r' '‘*''' v\"' ' * c« ^ ^ - 

^ ^ S^ a' ^ C> G 

K . - '^O ,^'t =3! 

» 

✓ 

.. 9? 

* I ' *' s *> ^ / fN® \- x*o ■> r\v' 

4V' r ^«2 5 , ^ " 

O: « ^*,. .c. ^ /k. '' 

\> 4'1\ a» //I. o ^ 


it « 



^ r\ 
V - r\*' 


^ - ^ 0 ' 


'n. ^ 

> \y ^ 

<r 


V 




0 o 


X 






« « 


1^ ,< V 


V ^ 




c 




i 


A- 




V 


' ' • ?%'"• ' ' o'^''^''c“ “ ■•■ * •* '''Vv*' ' ' ♦ ^'’o 

•< ■*-^ w't => '. ■^ K . KM^ '-.% ^ 

: \0°,. 

3 N 0 ’* % *■ »Tr. 3 N O >' 

/■.<'^'' .■'.j'^^^C^''” ■SSa " <'n J.V . 

> </>, ^ 


f/Z S( 


0 « Ik 


■fc' 




c>0 


H 'A 


■» * o 




^ n 'i* vV * 

'' J P v'^ 


•A' ■'k 


%A* a'i'' 




O 4 . (j 


0 « V 


0 ^ ^ c4S>r. ^4 


♦ « 


> V" 


A 






0 o 


\ xC. 


9 « 


Jl 


.-.s 






.-'f 




T ^ *** 

t '"oo^ : 

>° '\. "* 

* o » ^ /- 


C? ^ -P ■ u-i>^ v' 

•« ^ 


^nvS/ 






' *0 o . 

I \ <<• j' 

r 

V O y ♦ rt I 

^ffl'V* "^DvO^ \V^ 

>o^.''‘JL''v o %> »'•' 

A « 


vV 

\V 


* \» -/I 



N O. C‘ \/ ^ « A 

^ . y- ^ T^ 

^</» aX'^’ 





i/>k'o 

% 

<■ 

V 

t3 

\y^ ^ 

rC^r 


'■^i 

0 

V/ 


^ v'^‘^ ‘-■'^‘ ■»'■ 

^ -3, ^ N „,/>^ 





•V 


^ ff 1 





r- 

L ^ 

7 ^ 



^ c 
-%> 

#■ 

•v 


*• c. 

-i ^v 

o’^ c «’'''' -f 





